The 
Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

And  a  Few  Other  Gxxrtships 


@^f^ 


by 
EDWARD  SANDFORD  MARTIN 

Author  of  "  The  Luxury  of  Children  " 

"A  Little  Brother  of  the  Rich" 

"Windfalls  of  Observation" 

"Lucid    Intervals"   etc. 


%^7^ 


New  York  and  London 

Harper     &    Brothers 

Publishers     1905 


Copyright,  1905,  by  Harper  &  Brother? 

All  rights  reserved. 

Published  April,  1905. 


Contents 


PAGE 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 1 

A  Party  at  Madeira's 31 

The  Making  of  a  Match 61 

A  Disguised  Providence ,  101 

Josephine , 129 

Found:  a  Situation 155 


271916 


Illustrations 


*  *OH,  NOTHING,  DEAR,  BUT  THAT  I  DARE  SAY 

IT   WOULD   SUIT   me'" Frontispiece 

"HENRIETTA     WORE     HER     NEW     FROCK    THE 

FIRST    CHANCE    SHE    GOT" Facing  p.       38 

''WE    ALL    WENT    IN    TOGETHER"        ....  "  46 

'•'under    orders     of    MISS     SUSAN     HERRON, 

skipper" "  94 

"'what's  the  USE  OF  HAVING  AN  ONLY  SON 

IF   YOU    can't    spoil    HIM?'"     ....  "  126 

"'JOSEPHINE    dined    WITH    JUST    GERTRUDE 

AND  ME  AND  THE  CHILDREN  TO-NIGHT '"  "  146 

'"l  THINK  YOU  HAD  BETTER  TALK  TO  HIM'"  "  160 

'"we  ARE  NOT  FRIVOLOUS,  LIKE  YOU  men'"  "  170 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 


Iv^ 

gwi 

1 

LL 

HEOPHILUS   BRONSON 

sat  before  the  fire  with  the 
evening  paper  in  his  lap. 
Apparently  he  was  com- 
fortable. Actually  he  had 
his  back  to  the  wall  and  was 
fighting  it  out,  and  was  considerably  w^orn  with 
the  stress  of  conflict.  Of  all  hard  things  that 
are  part  of  the  common  lot,  and  which  persons 
with  the  greatest  dislike  for  disturbances  cannot 
hope  wholly  to  escape,  the  hardest  is  to  choose, 
at  a  critical  point,  between  two  courses.  Work 
is  a  simple  matter  enough  once  it  is  blocked  out. 
One  has  only  to  measure  one's  strength  and  wit 
against  the  daily  strain,  and  the  special  obstacles, 
and  take  what  comes,  be  it  profit  or  be  it  loss. 
Work  conserves  and  buttresses  equanimity,  but 

3 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

to  make  up  one's  mind  in  a  crisis,  where  there 
is  everything  to  be  considered  and  time  to 
consider  everything — oh,  that  is  the  very  devil ! 
Back  and  forth  the  tunmlt  was  raging  in  the 
mind  of  Theophilus  as  he  sat  in  apparent  re- 
pose. Back  and  forth  it  had  raged  for  days 
together,  doubt  grapphng  with  hope,  and  mis- 
giving tripping  up  determination  as  often  as  it 
found  its  legs.  In  the  confidence  that  comes 
from  two  cups  of  coffee  at  breakfast  the  way 
would  open  so  clearly  that  it  seemed  the  only 
way,  but  the  late-in-the-afternoon  mistrust  that 
follows  the  day's  expenditure  of  nervous  force 
would  settle  down  like  a  fog  and  obscure  every- 
thing. He  had  come  to  the  point  when  he  no 
longer  regarded  himself  as  a  single  positive 
force  which  was  trying  to  arrive,  but  rather  as  a 
sort  of  human  gridiron  over  which  a  big  game 
was  in  progress,  the  issue  of  which  no  fellow 
could  predict.  He  hated  being  a  gridiron.  He 
detested  being  so  torn  up  and  trampled  upon. 
To  be  a  nice  green  meadow,  with  a  tranquil 
stream  purling  down  through  it,  was  what  he 
liked,  and  here  he  was,  ravaged  from  morn  till 
4 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

eve,  and  even  in  hours  when  he  ought  to  be 
asleep,  by  this  desolating  combat,  which  he  could 
not  escape.  The  most  that  he  knew  was  that 
before  he  was  quite  dead  the  thing  would  come 
to  an  end  and  he  would  commit  himself  to 
something.  He  knew  also  that  once  committed 
he  would  stick.  It  was  confidence  in  that 
that  held  him,  for  in  that  lay  his  only  assurance 
that  the  issue  of  such  violent  inward  strife 
would  be  of  importance  enough  to  pay  for  the 
quest.  What  was  it  all  about?  He  was  trying 
to  determine  whether  to  invite  Eleanor  Cun- 
ningham to  marry  him. 

He  stirred.  He  sighed.  He  got  up  and 
filled  a  pipe.  "  I  shall  have  to  advise  with  her 
about  it,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  and  sighed 
again,  and  blew  a  cloud,  and  sat  down  and 
read  the  paper. 

It  is  a  serious  thing  to  be  thirty-five,  and  old 
of  one's  age,  and  feel  constrained  to  get  married. 
Love  at  twenty-two  comes  away  from  one  easily, 
like  children's  milk-teeth,  but  the  second  teeth 
come  away  hard.  Theophilus  was  not  at  all 
disposed  to  fall  in  love.  He  had  done  it  in 
5 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

early  life,  and  though  falling  in  love  is  always 
a  valuable  experience — provided  it  doesn't  hap- 
pen periodically,  like  fits — his  had  hurt  him 
and  made  him  wary.  He  didn't  want  to  fall  in 
love  again.  He  wanted  to  get  married.  He 
knew  it  was  time,  and  even  past  time.  He  was 
a  discreet,  observing  person,  with  a  habit  of 
reflection,  and  he  realized  that  if  he  kept  on 
in  the  celibate  state  he  would  come  to  no  kind 
of  good  that  would  satisfy  him.  Moreover, 
after  due  searching  of  the  spirit,  he  had  about 
concluded  that  of  all  the  women  he  knew 
Eleanor  Cunningham  was  the  one  likeliest  to 
make  him  happy  if  she  would.  If  she  would! 
It  had  come  to  the  point  where  that  was  the 
main  trouble. 

He  stopped  to  see  her  on  his  way  up-town  the 
next  afternoon.  She  gave  him  tea  and  re- 
freshed his  spirit  with  discourse.  He  liked  it 
amazingly;  the  more  because  the  fountain  of 
his  own  thoughts  did  not  incline  to  overflow. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said  to  her,  finally,  "that 
I  contemplate  getting  married?" 

"So?"  she  cried.  "Great  news!  And  who 
6 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Han 

is  the  happy  lady?  Let  me  think:  Lalage, 
Nesera,  Cloris,  Lucy,  Margaret,  a  girl  from 
Chicago,  a  Boston  girl,  an  old  love?  Who  has 
been  setting  snares  for  my  friend  Theophilus — 
Theophilus  the  fancy-free?" 

"None  of  them,"  he  answered;  "no  snares 
at  all." 

"Is  it  any  one  I  know?" 

"I  will  tell  you  next  week.  But  don't  ex- 
pect too  much.  It  is  only  a  provisional  inten- 
tion, and  it  may  come  to  grief." 

"Come  in  next  Wednesday  and  tell  me,"  she 
said;  and  with  that  he  betook  himself  off.  As 
he  went  up  the  street  he  stopped  at  a  florist's 
and  sent  her  the  most  ingratiating  flowers  he 
could  find.  But  she  sat  still  and  alone,  and 
meditated;  and  as  she  meditated,  idly,  she 
poured  out  of  her  cup  the  few  drops  of  tea  that 
were  left  in  it,  and  noticed  a  shred  of  tea-leaf 
that  stuck  to  the  side. 

He  went  to  church  the  following  Sunday,  and 

sat  where  he  could  see  her.    Outside  the  church 

he  met  her.     "Thank  you  for  the  flowers,"  she 

said.     "I  received  them  as  a  consolation  prize. 

7 


The  Cottrtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

But  what  are  you  doing  here?  Where  the 
treasure  is,  there  look  on  a  Sunday  morning  for 
the  heart  and  the  man.  Have  I  overlooked 
any  one?" 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  Theophilus.     "  I  saw  only 
you." 

He  reappeared  on  Wednesday. 

"  Now,"  said  Eleanor,  "  I  am  to  hear  who  the 
lady  is?" 

"What  lady?" 

"The  girl  you  are  going  to  marry." 

"I'm  not  sure  there  is  one." 

"But  you  said  you  were  going  to  marry!" 

"No;  I  only  said  I  contemplated  it." 

"Even  that  presupposes  a  girl!" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  don't  keep  me  in  suspense.    Who  is 
she?" 

"Do  you  really  want  to  know?" 

"Yes;  yes!" 

"Ever  so  much?" 

"Ever  so  much!" 

"And  won't  tell  a  soul?" 

"Not  a  living  soul." 
8 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"And  will  take  it  kindly?'^ 

"Like  an  angel." 

"Well,  bear  up,  then.  Since  you  will  know, 
it  was  you.  I  was  thinking  I'd  marry  you,  if 
you  didn't  mind." 

"Come!  no  evasions.     Who  is  it?" 

"Just  you;  nobody  else;  just  you.  Do  you 
think  well  of  the  idea?" 

"Not  at  all.  You  knew  I  wouldn't  have 
you.  Pshaw!  You  really  made  me  think  you 
were  engaged." 

"No,  I^m  not.  But  it  is  true  that  I  hope  to 
be." 

"To  whom?" 

''To  you.    As  I  said  before,  to  you." 

"Incorrigible!  Haven't  you  been  courting 
any  one  at  all?" 

"Only  you." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  Yes,  I  do,  if  you  say  so. 
But  you  haven't  courted  me." 

"How  can  you  say  so!  Five,  six,  seven  long 
years  have  I  been  unobtrusively  faithful.  Four- 
score and  eleven  balls  and  receptions  I  have 
been  to  because  you  were  there.  Sevenscore  and 
9 


The  Coartship  of  a  Carcftil  Man 

thirteen  gatherings  I  omitted  to  attend  be- 
cause you  were  not  going.  Only  last  week  I 
sent  you  some  roses,  and  this  makes  twice  I 
have  been  to  see  you  in  five  days.  If  that  is 
not  courtship,  do  tell  me  what  your  idea  of 
courtship  is,  so  that  I  may  buckle  to  and  try 
to  realize  it." 

"So  shall  I  not.  You  ought  to  know  that 
who  lays  his  snare  according  to  the  plans  of  the 
bird  catches  nothing.  So  there  was  no  girl, 
after  all.  Well,  I  do  not  grieve.  After  all, 
the  marriage  of  a  good — even  a  fair — bachelor 
involves  a  loss  to  society." 

"  No  doubt  a  good-sized  squad  of  unattached 
men — Moose  men,'  Mrs.  Rhinderpost  calls  them 
— is  a  convenience  to  ladies  who  give  dinners, 
but  do  not  deceive  yourself  about  the  un- 
attached state.  It  may  be  laudable  at  twenty- 
five,  but  it  is  discreditable  at  thirty-five,  omi- 
nous at  forty-five,  and  desperate  after  fifty.  A 
true  friend  should  encourage  a  friend  to  get 
himself  saved  before  it  is  too  late." 

"Have  I  discouraged  you?" 

"May  I  speak  to  your  father,  then?" 

10 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Surely.  But  not  about  me.  How  imper- 
tinent you  are!" 

"Oh  no;  only  old  and  out  of  practice.  It  is 
so  long  since  I  have  courted  any  one  but  you. 
You,  to  whom  each  season  continues  to  bring 
its  appointed  victims,  cannot  realize  how  rusty 
the  persuasive  arts  grow  by  disuse." 

"Maybe  the  dissuasive  art  does,  too.  I  sus- 
pect so  sometimes  when  I  see  the  men  some 
women  marry.  Which  of  us  knows  what  is  in 
store?  Even  at  twenty-seven  one  is  not  sure 
of  one's  future." 

"Not  quite;  but  some  women  are  terribly 
wise  at  twenty-seven,  and  of  course  it  is  a  grave 
matter  to  court  a  woman  who  has  grown  wise 
and  keeps  her  wits  about  her.  I  suppose  that 
once  she  has  put  her  illusions  into  storage  she 
hesitates  to  get  them  out  and  back  into  her 
life." 

A  week  later.    The  same  to  the  same: 

"Would  it  interest  you,  ma'am,  to  know  that 
my  landlord  has  had  notice  that  my  lease, 
which  runs  out  on  May  1st,  will  not  be  re- 
newed?" 

11 


The  Courtship   of  a  Careful  Man 

"That  delightful  bachelor  apartment?  How 
could  you!     I  have  always  considered  it  ideal." 

"  Oh  yes,  a  comfortable  place  —  ideal  at 
twenty-seven,  no  doubt,  but  no  longer  ideal  at 
thirty-five." 

"  One  or  two  lumps  ?  I  would  never  remem- 
ber though  you  drank  my  tea  once  a  week  for 
a  year." 

"Two,  please.  It  takes  daily  exercise  to 
impress  such  things  on  the  mind." 

"Oh,  daily  practice  might  do  it,  no  doubt. 
But  where  and  how  do  you  propose  to  live 
next?" 

"Who  can  tell?  Several  benevolent  young 
real-estate  agents  are  trying  to  provide  me  with 
a  house." 

"A  house!     Are  you  going  to  housekeeping?" 

"You  might  have  inferred  that  from  what  I 
have  told  you  of  my  desire  to  be  rescued  from 
the  odious  condition  of  bachelorhood." 

"  But  you  will  still  be  a  bachelor,  even  though 
you  hire  a  house." 

"Perhaps;  but  no  more  than  I  can  help. 
When  I  have  a  house  and  a  maid  and  a  man, 
12 


The  Courtship  of  a  CarcfttI  Man 

at  least  it  cannot  be  said  of  me  that,  knowing 
better  things,  I  prefer  worse." 

"'And  a  maid  and  a  man.'  Dear  me!  I 
suppose  you  have  the  man  ah*eady,  but  where 
will  you  look  for  the  maid?" 

"I  shall  have  to  look  as  other  helpless  men 
do." 

"Get  a  man  and  his  wife.  That's  the  best 
way  for  a  lone  man." 

"  Then  I  shall  not  do  it.  The  best  way  for  a 
lone  man  is  not  what  I  am  looking  for.  Maybe 
I  shall  have  two  maids  and  not  a  man  at  all." 

"And  you  feel  competent,  then,  to  manage 
two  women  and  keep  a  clean  house?" 

"Far  from  it.  Heaven  knows  how  I  shall 
fare!" 

"Where  are  you  going  to  find  a  house?" 

"Where  would  you  advise  me  to  look?" 

"They  say  there  are  very  good  houses  up  on 
the  west  side." 

"Do  you  like  it  up  there?" 

"I?  No;  it's  too  far  from  home  and  friends 
for  me.  I  like  it  here  where  father  lives,  or 
else  on  the  east  side  somewhere  not  too  far  up." 
13 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"The  upper  west  side  is  too  remote  for  a 
bachelor.  I  had  not  thought  of  going  there. 
The  Park  Avenue  neighborhood  between  Forty- 
second  and  Thirty-fourth  Streets  is  not  bad,  if 
one's  aspirations  and  one's  income  can  be  suc- 
cessfully adjusted  there." 

"  I  dare  say.  I  have  friends  that  find  it  sat- 
isfactory.    But  they  are  married." 

"  Yes ;  I  never  heard  that  being  married  neces- 
sarily made  life  less  supportable  in  that  region, 
provided  one  was  married  to  one's  taste.  That 
reminds  me.  Have  you  had  any  better  offers 
since  I  filed  mine?" 

"Since  you  what?" 

"Since  I  proposed  to  you?" 

"You  didn't." 

"My  dear  lady,  you  have  no  memory.  The 
last  time  was  only  a  week  ago.  Have  there 
been  likelier  ones  since?" 

"None  could  be  less  likely;  but  there  have 
been  none  likelier — none  at  all." 

"And  you  are  a  whole  week  older,  and,  alas! 
wiser  by  a  whole  week's  experience." 

"Comfort    yourself.    One    does    not    grow 

14 


The  Courtship   of  a  Careful  Man 

steadily  wiser  week  by  week.  Wisdom  comes  by 
jumps.  You  go  on  being  foolish  for  long  periods 
of  time,  and  then  grow  suddenly  wise  overnight." 

"I  suppose  that's  true.  It  takes  a  jolt. 
Are  your  summer  plans  made  yet?" 

"Father  talks  of  our  going  abroad  for  six 
weeks." 

"  That  would  take  you  to  the  middle  of  July. 
How  about  August?" 

"Who  can  tell?  Paul  Smith's,  Bar  Harbor, 
somewhere.  We  are  such  a  small  family  that 
we  don't  settle  to  anything  beforehand.  It  may 
be  Newport,  if  father  has  to  keep  near  town. 
Could  it  possibly  be  you,  sir,  that  I  have  to 
thank  for  the  anonymous  flowers  that  come  to 
this  house  from  day  to  day?" 

"It  might.  Who  can  say?  Do  they  please 
you?" 

"They  are  lovely.  They  excite  the  admira- 
tion of  this  household;  also  its  curiosity.  But 
what  an  extravagance  for  a  man  who  is  about 
to  move  into  a  house!" 

"Oh  no;  I  put  it  all  down  to  necessary  ex- 
penses in  furnishing.  When  you  buy  a  new 
15 


The   Cotirtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

frock  you  don't  try  to  save  money  on  the  trim- 
mings, do  you?" 

"  Indeed  I  do ;  but  it  is  so  hard  to  do  it  that 
I  usually  get  the  trimmings  first,  and  try  to  save 
on  the  rest." 

"I  wish  I  could.  But  you  are  so  obdurate. 
At  least  you  realize  that  I  realize  that  the 
trimming  is  the  more  important.  Thank  you 
for  that." 

"Thank  me  for  very,  very  little.  I  realize 
chiefly  that  you  are  persistently  saucy." 

In  the  passenger-list  of  the  Plutonic,  which 
sailed  from  New  York  to  Liverpool  on  May 
29th,  were  the  names  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles 
P.  Cunningham  and  Miss  Eleanor  Cunningham. 
In  the  list  of  the  Omaha,  which  sailed  on  June 
19th,  was  the  name  of  Theophilus  Bronson. 
That  w^as  how  it  happened  that  a  lady  who 
was  inspecting  the  National  Gallery  in  London, 
on  the  morning  of  June  26th,  exclaimed  in 
tones  of  surprise,  as  she  held  up  her  hands: 
"Theophilus,  of  all  men!  When  did  he  come, 
and  what  brought  him?" 
16 


The  Courtship   of  a  Careful  Man 

"Yesterday,  by  the  Omaha,  on  an  errand." 

"An  errand  of  business?" 

"The  most  important.     To  see  a  lady." 

"And  have  you  seen  her?" 

"  Yes ;  I  have  found  her,  thanks  to  her  moth- 
er's kindness  in  telhng  me  where  to  look.  How 
does  she  do,  and  how  did  she  sustain  the  perils 
of  the  voyage?" 

"Meaning  me,  as  usual.  I  do  very  well,  and 
there  were  no  perils." 

"And  is  she  happy  here?" 

"Perfectly.  Delightful  weather,  delightful 
shops,  delightful  sights,  and  agreeable  people. 
No  cloud  in  the  sky,  except  one  that  overhangs 
the  New  York  Custom-house.     And  you?" 

"I  am  happy,  too." 

"Do  you  stay  long?  Will  you  come  with  us 
to  Paris  on  Saturday?" 

"I  go  to  New  York  on  Saturday." 

"Three  days  ashore?  Crossed  the  ocean  for 
a  visit  of  three  days?" 

"It  is  all  the  time  I  can  spare  now.  I  must 
save  something  for  August  and  September." 

"Why,  the  trip  won't  pay  you!" 
17 


The  Cotirtship   of  a  Careful  Man 

"Who  can  tell?  I  thought  it  would.  I 
planned  six  weeks  ago  to  come." 

"No  doubt  you  needed  the  voyage." 

"I  think  I  could  have  worried  along  with- 
out the  voyage.  But,  as  I  said,  I  had  an  er- 
rand." 

"Oh  yes:  to  see  that  girl.  It  wasn't  worth 
so  much  trouble,  was  it?" 

"Amply.  I  wanted  to  know  what  she  was 
doing,  and  who  was  helping  her.  I  don't  like 
these  spring  trips  to  Europe  for  girls  very 
much." 

"You  might  have  written  and  inquired." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  want  to  inquire.  I  wanted  to 
know.  It  costs  five  cents  to  inquire,  and  you 
are  apt  to  get  back  about  five  cents'  worth  of 
information.    Besides — " 

"Well?" 

"Perhaps  I  am  foolish  to  tell  you,  but — well, 
I  feared  the  girl  distrusted  the  completeness  of 
my  infatuation." 

"Oh!" 

"And  as  I  am  a  conventional  person,  and 
have  passed  the  age  of  violent  indiscretion,  and 
18 


The  Courtship   of  a  Careful  Man 

live  in  New  York,  and  cannot  stand  within 
eyeshot  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  sing  to  a  guitar  by 
moonUght  under  her  window,  I  had  to  use  such 
means  as  the  times  permit." 

"Yes?" 

"And,  besides,  I  got  restless.  It  is  a  serious 
matter  to  get  restless  at  thirty-five." 

"Of  course  you  were  restless.  What  could 
you  expect  after  giving  up  an  apartment  where 
you  had  lived  for  seven  years?  Have  you  got 
a  house  yet?" 

"Not  yet.  There  seems  to  be  no  hurry.  I 
have  stored  my  belongings  and  hired  a  couple 
of  rooms  for  the  summer." 

"I  told  you  you  were  rash.  Of  course  you 
were  restless." 

"Why,  the  rooms  are  comfortable  enough, 
and  the  town  is  full  of  clubs.  I'm  not  so  deadly 
old  yet  that  it's  a  vital  matter  to  me  always  to 
sleep  in  the  same  place." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  disposed  to 
shift  part  of  the  responsibility  for  your  im- 
pulses. Now  that's  quite  unlike  all  I  have 
ever  known  of  you.  I  begin  to  think  you're  a 
19 


The  Courtship   of  a  Careful   Man 

dangerous  person,  with  whom  it  becomes  one 
to  be  circmnspect  in  one's  deahngs." 

"I  fear  not.  Any  surety  company  in  New 
York  will  give  a  bond  at  its  lowest  rate  that  I 
am  sane,  solvent,  and  safe — oh,  distressfully 
safe!  As  for  shifting  any  part  of  the  respon- 
sibility for  my  moods,  I  won't  be  able  to  do 
that  until  I  find  some  being  of  enough  benevo- 
lence to  assume  what  I  put  off." 

"  That  girl  you  say  you  came  to  see,  does  she 
show  any  sign  of  harboring  benevolent  inten- 
tions of  that  sort?" 

"Not  the  least.  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  could 
think  she  did!" 

"  I  guess  not.  If  I  thought  she  did,  I  should 
feel  compunctions  about  gossiping  with  you  so 
long  in  this  gallery.  It's  time  we  moved  on, 
anyway.  It  doesn't  seem  to  be  a  favorable 
morning  for  pictures." 

"Eleanor,"  said  her  mother,  "Theophilus 
Bronson  was  here  inquiring  for  you.  Did  he 
find  you?" 

"Yes,  mother.    He's  coming  to  dinner." 

20 


The  Courtship   of  a  Careful  Man 

"What's  he  doing  in  London?" 

"He  said  he  came  on  business.  Partly  on 
business,  perhaps,  hke  the  rest  of  us." 

"How  long  does  he  stay?" 

"He  goes  back  Saturday." 

"  He  seems  in  a  hurry.  What  did  he  want  of 
you?" 

"Oh,  just  the  pleasure  of  my.  improving 
society." 

"Was  that  all?  For  a  man  who  came  to 
London  for  three  days  on  a  matter  of  business, 
he  seems  extraordinarily  appreciative  of  ladies' 
society.    Why,  Eleanor — " 

"Yes,  mother!" 

"Well — nothing,  except  that  you  and  Bron- 
son  seem  to  have  more  interests  in  common 
lately  than  you  used  to  find." 

"I  don't  know,  mother.  It's  always  pleas- 
ant to  meet  one's  friends  in  London." 

It  had  come  to  be  the  29th  of  August,  es- 
pecially at  Paul  Smith's,  where  the  culmination 
of  summer  means  more  than  it  does  at  hum- 
drum places  where   people  live  all   the  year 

21 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

around.  There  the  first  of  September  is  about 
the  height  of  the  season.  Many  go,  but  more 
come.  The  Uttle  yachts  race  almost  daily  on 
Upper  St.  Regis,  and  launches  and  boats  ply 
incessantly  from  lake  to  lake  through  the  con- 
necting slews.  At  the  lower  end  of  Spitfire 
Lake,  Eleanor  Cunningham  reposed  with  her 
back  to  a  tree,  Theophilus  Bronson  sat  on  a 
log,  and  the  Adirondack  boat,  which  had 
brought  them  to  a  bit  of  imperfectly  pre- 
empted land,  rested  beside  a  rude  landing 
which  marked  the  beginning  of  a  little-used 
carry. 

"You  seem  happy  up  here,"  said  Bronson. 

"Surely.     Why  not?" 

"You  are  happy,  then,  unless  there  is  some 
definite,  effectual  hinderance.  Now  that  shows 
a  fortunate  nature." 

"  Oh,  but  there  are  plenty  of  tangible  reasons 
for  being  happy:  the  air  tastes  so  clean;  the 
lakes  are  so  pretty;  the  boats  are  so  light;  my 
dear  parents  are  so  bland  and  indulgent;  and 
now,  to  crown  all  these  blessings,  I  have  the 
company  of  my  friend  Theophilus." 
22 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"  An  edifying  list  of  assets,  especially  the  last 
item.  I  wish  I  might  be  assured  that  it  was 
not  rightly  last  as  being  of  least  importance." 

"Oh,  I  can  change  the  order  if  you  like. 
But,  anyway,  it  is  in  good  company,  and  who 
knows  that  I  did  not  put  it  last  for  purposes  of 
special  emphasis?" 

"Dear  me,  how  plausibly  you  put  things! 
Have  you  had  any  fly-fishing  up  here?" 

"  None.  I  believe  they  use  worms  in  August. 
Why?" 

"There  is  that  in  you  that  I  am  sure  would 
cast  a  fly  to  the  satisfaction  of  a  trout;  but 
whether  you  would  care  to  land  the  fish  you 
hooked  is  another  question.  Have  you  put 
many  back  this  season?" 

"Now  you  are  a  little  vague,  and,  I  suspect, 
a  good  deal  saucy.  I  have  not  been  fishing. 
Life  here  is  too  polite  for  fishing.  I  wear  my 
next-to-best  clothes,  and  return  the  civilities 
of  the  Upper  Regis  aristocracy,  and  make  after- 
noon calls  by  boat,  and  go  out  to  lunch  or  to 
dinner,  and  climb  the  mountain,  and  go  on 
picnics." 

23 


The   Courtship  of   a  Careful  Man 

"And  are  the  Upper  Regis  aristocracy  kind 
to  you,  and  do  you  like  their  ways?" 

"They  are  very  kind  indeed,  and  very  nice, 
and  so  are  their  ways.  Their  dinners  are  bet- 
ter than  dinners  ought  to  be  in  the  wilderness, 
and  to  wear  even  one's  next-to-best  clothes  in  a 
boat  on  a  rainy  night  is  disturbing,  but  such 
drawbacks  are  trivial." 

"To  be  sure;  too  good  a  dinner  is  a  bearable 
hardship,  even  when  you  sleep  in  a  tent.  But 
we  digress.  Am  I  here  to  talk  about  dinners? 
Please,  will  you  marry  me  this  fall?" 

"My,  how  sudden  and  unexpected  of  you!  I 
guess  not.  Why  should  I  marry  you  this 
fall?" 

"  It  would  greatly  oblige  an  old  friend.  That 
is  one  good  reason." 

"I  have  never  married  any  one  for  such  a 
reason  as  that,  and  I  am  not  going  to  begin  now. 
Do  see  how  that  sail-boat  goes  over!" 

"Hang  the  sail-boat!     Please  pay  attention. 

There  are  other  reasons.     You  are  twenty-seven 

years  old.     You  have  got  to  marry  somebody, 

sometime — at  least,  it  will  probably  be  better 

24 


The   Cotirtship   of  a  Careful  Man 

for  you  to,  if  you  can  suit  yourself;  but  the 
longer  you  wait  the  harder  it  will  come.  Now 
I  dare  say  you  could  marry  a  better  man  and 
an  abler  man  and  a  richer  man  than  I,  but  you 
don't  seem  to  be  doing  it,  and  though  it  is  not 
for  me  to  be  cracking  myself  up,  it  is  of  course 
possible  that  you  might  go  farther  and  fare 
worse." 

"Dear,  dear!  Theophilus.  What  reasons! 
Am  I  so  critically  old?  Come,  get  in  the  boat, 
and  I'll  row  you  back  to  the  hotel." 

"  No,  no,  not  yet.  Of  course  the  reasons  are 
absurd.  No  young  thing  of  twenty-seven  is 
going  to  marry  any  man  for  stated  reasons.  I 
can't  furnish  you  with  reasons.  Make  any  ex- 
cuse for  yourself  you  like,  only  marry  me!  I 
know  my  reasons  well  enough." 

"Oh  yes.  Your  reasons — I  know  them.  ^I, 
Theophilus,  being  thirty-five  years  old,  and  feel- 
ing mine  infirmities  to  increase  upon  me,  to 
oblige  an  old  friend,  the  same  being  my  other 
and  more  prudent  self,  am  determined,  upon 
due  consideration,  and  in  spite  of  all  that  may 
reasonably  be  urged  to  the  contrary,  to  marry 

25 


The  Cotjrtship   of  a  Careful  Man 

the  maiden  Eleanor,  if  nothing  hinders,  lest 
some  worse  thing  befall.'  Those  be  thy  reasons, 
0  Theophilus!     Come,  help  me  into  the  boat." 

"Oh  no!  Well,  if  you  will— careful !  No, 
take  the  stern  seat,  please,  and  leave  me  the 
oars.  Now  we're  so  far  apart  one  needs  a 
megaphone.  Go  to  with  your  reasons.  I'll 
none  of  them.  They're  not  mine.  Conspuez 
reasons,  anyhow.  What  have  they  got  to  do 
with  it?  I  have  but  one,  Eleanor.  I  love  you! 
That's  why!" 

"Love  me!  So  prudent  a  man  go  to  such 
rash  lengths  at  thirty-five!" 

"I  dote  on  you;  I'm  just  crazy  about  you! 
Just  marry  me  once  and  see  if  I  am  not." 

"Why,  that  is  news!  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me  so  last  spring?" 

"I  didn't  think  your  mind  was  prepared  for 
it.     And  besides — " 

"And  besides?" 

"What  was  the  use  of  my  telling  you  unless 
you  were  going  to  have  me  ?  To  love  a  woman 
at  twenty-two  and  blurt  it  out  is  a  relief  to  the 
feelings,  and  no  discredit,  for  at  twenty-two 

26 


The  Courtship   of  a  Careftil  Man 

one  is  not  expected  to  know  better.     It  is  dif- 
ferent at  thirty-five." 

"At  five-and-thirty  it  seems  to  be  more  con- 
venient that  the  lady's  assurance  should  pre- 
cede the  declaration." 

"Oh  yes;  far  more  convenient." 
"But  I  have  given  you  no  assurance." 
"  None,  Eleanor.  But  I  cannot  withdraw  the 
declaration.  It  is  true — lamentably  true,  per- 
haps— that  I  love  you.  It  seems  to  have  been 
growing  on  me.  But  that  was  natural.  That 
would  have  happened  to  any  man  who  did  not 
grub  the  tendency  out  at  the  first  appearance 
of  symptoms.  You  see,  Eleanor,  you  are  a 
charming  woman!" 

"Ah,  Theophilus!     You,  too,  are  a  flatterer!" 
"Well,  as  to  that,  ask  your  mother.     AVhat 
I  have  learned  about  you  I  have  learned  ap- 
parently to  my  sorrow." 

"  You're  steering  wild,  Theophilus.  Our  slew- 
is  to  the  right.     That's  better." 

"The  lady  is  in  haste  to  be  quit  of  her  ad- 
mirer's company.  Have  courage.  It  is  not 
far." 

3  27 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

A  long  pause.  They  approach  the  opening 
of  the  slew.     "Did  you  find  a  house?" 

"  I  had  one  in  mind.  I  was  going  to  consult 
you  about  it." 

"Where  was  it?" 

"Oh,  hang  the  house!  It  was  off  Park 
Avenue  below  Forty-second  Street." 

"Did  you  like  it?" 

"It  is  not  bad.  I  dare  say  I  shall  take  it, 
anyway." 

"Is  it  high  stoop  or  English  basement?" 

"American  basement.  Not  a  bad  house  for 
the  money." 

"Take  it  if  it  suits  you.  Those  American 
basement  houses  run  overmuch  to  stairs,  but 
still,  if  it  suits  you,  I  dare  say — " 

"Dare  say  what?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  dear,  but  that  I  dare  say  it 
would  suit  me." 

"You!    Eleanor—" 

"Oh,  look  out!  You're  running  into  the 
bank.  To  the  right!  To  the  right!  Now  do 
be  careful!" 

"Suit  2/oz^,  Eleanor?" 
28 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Sit  still,  Theophilus.  Don't  try  to  move 
in  this  boat.  You'll  upset  us,  surely.  Sit 
quietly  and  row  home  like  a  good  man  thirty- 
five  years  old.  Poor  dear!  Why,  I  always 
meant  to  take  you  when  you  really  asked  me. 
Is  it  a  new  house?" 

"  I  have  a  good  mind  to  tip  you  over." 

"Better  not.  Caught  is  not  caged.  Is  it  a 
brick  house  or  stone?  To  the  left;  there  are 
two  boats  coming.  There!  Of  course  there  is 
a  butler's  pantry?" 

"  Drat  the  house !  It  is  a  modern  house,  and 
there  is  everything  in  it  that  belongs  in  a  house 
of  its  size.  Since  it  seems  to  suit  you,  I'll 
telegraph  to  the  agent  as  soon  as  we  get 
ashore." 

"To  the  right  a  little.  Now  you're  headed 
for  the  landing.  Aren't  you  going  to  speak  to 
father  first?" 

"  I  have  spoken  to  him.  I  asked  if  you  were 
a  good  daughter." 

"Well?" 

"And  he  said:  'Too  good  to  lose.  I  hope 
you  won't  get  her!'  You  see  he  is  unsym- 
29 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

pathetic,  so  I  shall  telegraph  without  waiting. 
I  say,  Eleanor!" 

"Well,  Theophilus." 

"  If  you  had  made  up  your  mind  to  take  me, 
what  did  you  make  me  get  back  into  this  in- 
fernal boat  for?" 

"For  your  sins,  dear,  and  because  I  wanted 
to  know  more  about  the  house  before  I  was 
committed  to  live  in  it." 


A  Party   at   Madeira' 


eira  s 


A  Party  at  Madeira's 


WANT  a  new  dress/'  said 
my  wife. 

"You    always  do,  dear." 
"But  I  need  one  badly." 
"You   always    do,    dear, 
and  deserve  one  also." 
"  But  I  am  going  to  have  it,  and  I  know  how. 
I  have  been  to  see  your  friend,  Mrs.  Hazard." 

"Oh!  And  you  have  seen  her  Tennessee 
Coal  and  Iron  tea -gown,  have  you?  Isn't  it 
splendid!    What  are  you  going  to  buy?" 

"  It  is  lovely,  and  I  am  not  going  to  buy  any- 
thing, because  I  have  bought,  and  I  sha'n't  tell 
you  what  until  I  see  how  it  comes  out.  Mrs. 
Hazard  advised  me." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  bet  your  aunt  Joanna's 
33 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

legacy  on  one  of  Mrs.  Hazard's  gambles.  It 
was  kind  of  you,  dear,  not  to  ask  my  advice. 
Is  it  to  be  an  evening-gown?" 

"It  is:  a  memorable  ball-gown." 

"And  whose  ball  do  you  hope  to  wear  it  at, 
dear?  It  is  seven  years  since  we  came  to  New 
York,  and  our  presence  at  a  ball  has  not  as 
yet  been  solicited.  Be  moderate,  sweet — call 
it  a  dinner-dress,  and  be  content  to  eat  in  it." 

"  So  shall  I  not.  It  is  to  be  a  ball-gown,  and 
I  shall  wear  it  at  a  ball  which  shall  be  my  own 
ball,  which  you  and  I  shall  give  at  Madeira's 
tavern  for  a  coming-out  party  for  your  daughter 
Henrietta." 

"Mrs.  Hazard's  tip  seems  to  have  given  you 
a  vast  deal  of  confidence.  The  price  of  a  ball 
at  Madeira's  must  be  about  a  year's  rent.  When 
the  pool  is  troubled,  do  you  expect  to  put  me 
in  also?" 

"  Oh  no.  We  decided  long  ago  that  it  doesn't 
do  for  you  to  speculate,  because  a  man  can't 
work  at  his  trade  and  follow  stocks  simultane- 
ously. You  shall  have  no  concern  at  all.  You 
are  merely  to  lend  me  the  sixteen  Ossawatomie 


A   Party   at   Madeira's 

and  Elba  bonds  that  you  keep  down-town,  and 
I  am  going  to  do  the  rest.  At  least,  Mrs.  Hazard 
and  I  are.     Mrs.  Hazard  is  coming  to  the  ball." 

"In  the  T.  C.  and  I.  tea-gown?" 

"No,  indeed.  In  a  Standard  Oil  ball-gown, 
with  lots  of  real  lace  on  it." 

"And  suppose  the  market  slumps?" 

"It  might  cause  delay;  but  it  won't  slump. 
Have  faith,  dear  heart,  have  faith." 

For  some  months  after  that  our  experience 
of  life  was  tinctured  with  an  aleatory  flavor. 
The  Ossawatomie  and  Elba  bonds  ceased  to  be 
securities  in  that  they  were  withdrawn  from 
the  security  of  the  safe-deposit  box  where  they 
were  idly  living  down  their  coupons,  and  were 
handed  over  to  my  wife,  who  duly  tied  them 
on  to  the  tail  strings  of  various  kites.  I  should 
not  have  ventured  to  risk  them  myself,  for  if 
they  had  dwindled  or  disappeared  through  my 
rash  impatience  of  penury,  I  should  have  had  to 
face  my  wife,  and  to  live  on  in  the  conscious- 
ness that  she  was  aware  that  I  had  prejudiced 
her  prospects  of  future  comfort.  I  am  willing  to 
take  chances  on  my  own  account,  but  not  for 
35 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

her.  When  she  chooses  to  take  the  risks,  it  is 
a  different  matter,  for  I  am  confident  my  phi- 
losophy would  be  equal  to  retrenchments  which 
she  would  apologize  for  as  well  as  share,  whereas 
retrenchment  which  I  would  have  to  apologize 
for  as  well  as  share  might  overstrain  my  forti- 
tude. Oatmeal  with  a  cheerful  and  extenuat- 
ing spirit  makes  a  fair  breakfast,  whereas  oat- 
meal and  remorse  taste  of  sawdust.  Besides, 
I  didn't  believe  that  in  the  long-run  my  wife 
would  lose.  She  is  a  cautious  woman,  and  I 
was  sure  she  would  follow  Mrs.  Hazard's  leader- 
ship, and  I  know  Mrs.  Hazard,  and  have,  on 
the  whole,  a  good  opinion  of  her  capacity  as  a 
speculator.  She  has  had  experience  both  in 
getting  in  and  getting  out.  It  always  seemed 
to  me  that  she  was  able  somehow  to  command 
pretty  sound  advice,  and,  though  she  has  the 
experimental  temperament,  she  is  decidedly 
averse  to  lying  awake  nights,  and  I  was  sure  she 
would  not  try  to  make  her  everlasting  fortune 
between  two  days  at  the  risk  of  parting  with 
her  stake.  I  don't  know  whether  or  not  it  is 
sinful  to  buy  controlling  interests  in  shares  that 
36 


A  Party   at   Madeira^s 

seem  likely  to  rise,  and,  though  I  am  sure  it  is 
perilous,  the  risk  for  persons  who  are  duly 
cautious  seems  more  a  risk  of  losing  one's  head 
or  one's  patience  than  of  losing  a  very  large 
proportion  of  one's  money. 

To  this  day  I  don't  know  what  those  ladies 
bought.  Some  days  my  wife's  spirits  seemed 
unaccountably  high;  some  days  her  cheerful- 
ness seemed  forced.  Early  in  December  plans 
began  to  be  drawn  for  ball-dresses  for  her  and 
Henrietta.  They  were  duly  executed,  and  be- 
fore the  holidays  were  over  two  very  ravishing 
gowns  came  home.  Cards  of  invitation  came 
home  one  day  in  a  big  box,  with  their  envelopes, 
and  I  expected  orders  to  hire  one  of  Madeira's 
rooms,  but  it  turned  out  that  the  dateline  in 
the  invitations  had  not  been  filled  in. 

"Will  the  party  come  before  Lent,  Ara- 
minta?"  I  inquired. 

She  was  reading  the  mathematical  end  of 
the  evening  paper,  with  lines  up  and  down  her 
forehead,  and  an  appearance  of  distrust  in 
future  events  well  suited  to  a  reader  of  that 
grave  journal. 

37 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"  I  can't  say  positively  yet.  It  looks  to-night 
a  little  as  though  it  wouldn't.  The  Boers  are 
so  obstinate,  and  things  keep  happening  so  in- 
opportunely that  it's  rather  a  difficult  time  to 
give  balls  just  now." 

"Those  gowns,"  said  I,  "would  they  keep 
at  a  pinch  over  the  summer?" 

"Oh  yes,  dear;  we  can  keep  the  moths  out 
of  them,  I  guess.  Though  keeping  their  style 
in  them  is  another  matter." 

My  wife  went  around  to  Mrs.  Hazard's  the 
following  morning — so  I  gathered  from  the  flot- 
sam of  her  subsequent  discourse — and  I  have 
no  doubt  they  talked  over  the  telephone  with 
persons  down-town.  Mrs.  Hazard  has  a  tele- 
phone. I  have  accused  her  of  having  a  ticker 
in  her  cellar,  but  she  says  not.  She  has  a 
cellar,  though,  and  that  is  something.  Only 
one  family  in  fourteen  has  a  cellar  in  New  York. 
My  family  has  always  been  of  the  thirteen  that 
are  cellarless.  That  night  Araminta  and  I 
went  out  to  dinner,  and  she  wore  her  new  dress. 

"What!"  said  I,  "are  you  going  to  eat  in  it, 
after  all?" 

38 


V    S 


-^ 


IIEXRIETTA     MORE     HER     NEW    FROCK     THE     FIRST    CHANCE 
SHE    got" 


A   Party   at   Madcira^s 

"Oh  yes!  Balls  are  very  hard  on  dresses. 
It  is  a  shame  to  wear  a  new  gown  to  a  dancing- 
party,  even  at  my  age." 

Henrietta  wore  her  new  frock  the  first  chance 
she  got,  and  a  lovely  sight  she  was  in  it.  I  had 
a  suspicion  that  the  fabrics  of  both  garments 
were  General  Electric,  and  the  trimmings  Ameri- 
can Bridge,  but  I  never  got  positive  informa- 
tion about  it. 

"You  tell  everything,"  my  wife  said. 

I  never  knew  a  prayerfuler  Lent  than  we  had, 
but  no  ball  followed  it.  My  wife  was  not  de- 
pressed, but  her  mouth  developed  new  lines  of 
decision.  I  used  to  ask  from  time  to  time  if 
she  had  blisters  yet  from  holding  on.  Spring 
came,  summer  followed.  We  all  read  the  papers 
faithfully  and  watched  the  second  sound-money 
campaign.  The  last  month  of  it  Araminta  per- 
sonally supervised — she  was  back  in  town  again 
by  that  time.  She  hung  a  sound-money  flag 
out  of  the  window  of  our  flat,  and  compelled 
me  to  march  in  the  sound-money  parade,  though 
it  was  a  rainy  day.  One  day,  about  a  month 
after  that,  she  brought  me  back  the  sixteen 
39 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

Ossawatomie  and  Elba  bonds,  and  asked  me 
to  negotiate  with  Madeira  for  the  24th  of 
January. 

''For  his  big  ballroom?"  I  asked. 

"How  big  is  it?" 

"I  don't  remember.  You  may  recall  that 
we  both  went  to  the  opening — they  gave  away 
ice-cream;  I  remember  your  enthusiasm — but  I 
have  never  since  got  above  the  first  floor.  How 
many  people  do  you  expect?  That  will  settle 
the  size  of  the  room." 

"I  should  think  about  two  hundred." 

"Where  on  earth  are  you  going  to  scrape 
together  two  hundred  people  for  a  dancing- 
party?  It  isn't  possible  that  you  know  fifty 
dancing  people  in  New  York." 

"  This  ball,  William,  is  not  so  much  for  dan- 
cing people  as  for  people  who  haven't  danced 
since — oh,  since  the  panic  of  '93,  and  who  will 
be  interested  in  dancing  just  once  more  before  it 
is  forever  too  late.  We  don't  want  to  be  crowd- 
ed. Tell  Madeira  three  hundred.  You  seem 
not  to  suspect  that  Henrietta  has  some  ac- 
quaintances." 

40 


A   Party   at   Madeira's 

"Good  Heavens!  dear,  you  are  in  for  it.  It 
will  be  like  a  handful  of  pease  in  a  gourd." 

Nevertheless,  I  went  next  morning  and  en- 
gaged the  biggest  room  Madeira  had,  and  told 
him  my  wife  would  be  along  down  to  see  about 
it.  The  man  in  charge  looked  at  me  dubiously, 
and  he  so  evidently  wanted  to  ask  me  for  a  ref- 
erence that  I  asked  him  if  I  couldn't  pay  the 
hire  in  advance.  That  reassured  him  a  little, 
so  that  he  reluctantly  conceded  that  that  would 
not  be  necessary.  Then  I  went  somewhat 
gloomily  down  street  and  ordered  a  new  double- 
breasted  white  w^aistcoat.  Three  hundred  peo- 
ple! Where  would  they  find  three  hundred 
people  to  dance  to  our  fiddles  and  drink  our 
champagne?  I  don't  want  to  pretend  that 
either  my  wife  or  I  began  life  in  a  foundling- 
asylum,  or  have  lived  on  the  earth  forty-nine 
and  fifty-four  years  respectively  without  es- 
tablishing some  social  relations.  We  can  get 
four,  or  six,  or  even  eight  people  to  dine  with  us, 
provided  we  begin  soon  enough,  and  they  will 
all  be  presentable  and  remunerative  people, 
who  eat  and  drink  with  consideration,  and  show 
41 


The  Cotirtship  of  a  Carcftil  Man 

practice  in  spoken  discourse.  But  three  hun- 
dred! I  put  it  all  resolutely  out  of  mind,  de- 
termined to  be  helpful  if  I  could,  and  to  lay  up 
such  store  of  solace  as  I  might  against  impend- 
ing catastrophe.  And  so  I  plodded  on  about 
my  business. 

The  invitations  went  out  in  December.  I 
never  saw  the  list,  though  I  contributed  duti- 
fully to  it  out  of  such  capacity  as  I  had  when- 
ever my  co-operation  was  invited.  It  was  com- 
posed by  Mrs.  Hazard,  my  wife,  Henrietta,  our 
cousin  Augusta,  and  my  son  Alonzo,  who  was 
at  that  time  pursuing  professional  studies  in  the 
East,  and  who  sent  his  mother  a  list  of  names. 
My  niece,  Sarah  Joyce,  came  to  town  after 
Thanksgiving,  and  for  a  fortnight  occupied 
Alonzo's  vacant  state-room  in  our  flat.  Her 
enthusiasm  for  the  ball  was  so  magnificent  that 
I  began  to  take  heart,  though  by  that  time  it 
was  determined  that,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned, 
the  ball  should  be  a  surprise,  for  my  wife  at 
that  time  was  calling  me  Thomas  for  my  doubts. 
I  saw  two  full  sheets  of  postage-stamps  on  her 
table  one  day,  and  if  those  women  didn't  send 

42 


A   Party   at   Madeira^s 

out  at  least  four  hundred  invitations  their  labor 
was  disproportionate  to  its  results.  At  any 
rate,  they  got  a  peck  or  two  of  answers  every 
day  for  nearly  a  week.  Now  and  then  they 
would  let  me  see  one,  but  only  acceptances,  and 
those  only  from  cronies  of  my  own. 

It  got  to  be  the  20th  of  January.  My  wife 
said  at  breakfast  that  the  ball  would  hold  a 
few  more  persons,  and  if  I  happened  on  any 
one  that  I  wanted  to  ask  she  would  be  glad 
to  send  him  an  invitation. 

" Is  it  an  appeal  to  the  highways  and  hedges?'^ 
said  I. 

"Not  quite  that,  but  to  the  avenues  and  the 
hotels,  and  possibly  the  clubs.  You  are  con- 
stantly running  across  people  from  out  of  town 
whom  you  want  to  bring  home  to  dinner.  May- 
be you  will  meet  some  one  whom  it  will  be 
pleasant  to  have  at  our  ball." 

"The  Binghams  of  Cleveland  are  due  in  town 
about  now.  1  will  stop  in  at  the  Hotel  Flanders 
and  see  if  they  happen  to  be  there." 

"That  particular  labor  you  may  spare  your- 
self, for  the  Binghams  have  been  asked  long 
4  43 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

ago,  and  have  accepted.  But  stop  in  at  the 
Flanders,  by  all  means.  You  may  find  some 
one  else." 

Herman  Joy  and  his  wife,  of  Boston,  were 
breakfasting  at  the  Flanders  when  I  stopped 
there.  Maybe  they  will  like  to  come,  thought 
I,  so  I  put  off  my  overcoat  and  hat  and  went 
into  the  dining-room  to  accost  them,  expecting 
to  work  up  diplomatically  to  the  ball,  and  let 
its  existence  transpire  casually. 

"Hello,  William!"  cried  Herman.  "Is  your 
wife^s  party  making  good  progress?" 

"Gracious!"  said  I,  shaking  hands  with  Mrs. 
Joy;  "how  did  you  know  of  it?" 

"Why,  we're  coming.  Didn't  you  know 
it?  I  have  an  errand  in  Washington,  and 
we  are  going  to  stop  over  on  our  way 
back." 

"Any  one  else  coming  from  your  part  of  the 
world?" 

"I  think  so.     I  don't  understand  that  there 
will  be  any  general  migration,  but  my  recol- 
lection is  that  the  Winters  said  they  were  com- 
ing,  and  Sam  Park,   and  one  or  two  others. 
44 


A   Party   at   Madeira's 

Any  excuse  to  get  to  New  York  is  good.    You 
don't  seem  to  be  well  posted." 

I  owned  that  I  wasn't,  but  professed  a  thirst 
for  information.  "My!"  thought  I;  "what  a 
forehanded  woman!"  I  wasn't  caught  in  any 
more  ignorance  that  day,  for  when  any  one  I 
met  said  "party"  to  me  I  gave  him  his  head, 
and  let  him  believe  I  knew  all  about  it.  On 
that  day  and  the  three  following  days  I  met 
about  twenty  more  or  less  intimate  acquaint- 
ances from  Cincinnati,  Omaha,  Chicago,  St. 
Louis,  Buffalo,  and  other  outlyuig  districts. 
About  half  a  dozen  of  them  said  they  hoped  to 
see  me  Thursday  night,  and  the  rest  I  invited, 
and  most  of  them  accepted.  Mrs.  Aspen,  of 
Cincinnati,  said  she  had  always  wanted  to 
know  what  parties  were  like  in  New  York,  and 
I  said  so  had  I,  and  this  was  our  chance,  which 
seemed  to  be  a  different  answer  from  what  she 
had  expected,  so  that  her  face  took  on  the  look 
of  one  who  bites  a  gold  piece  to  see  if  it  is  good. 
Then  I  asked  if  she  had  her  diamonds  with  her, 
and  she  said  yes,  and  her  best  gown,  too,  for 
she  had  been  to  the  opera;  did  I  think  that 
45 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

Ohio  people  saved  their  best  for  Ohio?  I  said 
it  was  so  much  the  fashion  in  Washington  to 
save  the  best  for  Ohio  that  it  would  have  been 
no  wonder  if  she  had  followed  it  in  New  York. 
At  the  Fifth  Avenue,  on  Wednesday,  I  dis- 
covered Mrs.  Wilson  of  Worcester,  and  her 
daughter,  and  my  wife  went  down  to  see  them 
that  afternoon.  "They  are  coming,"  she  said. 
"I  told  them  the  Broadheads  would  be  there, 
and  that  they  would  find  plenty  of  acquaint- 
ances, and  Emily  W^ilson  said  that  if  I  did  not 
insist  that  her  mother  should  make  up  her 
mind  until  after  dinner  on  Thursday  she  would 
engage  to  fetch  her." 


II 


In  its  superficial  aspects  that  ball  was  doubt- 
less a  good  deal  like  other  balls,  but  I  own  that 
to  me  it  was  altogether  extraordinary  and  of 
a  surpassing  interest.  I  had  not  at  any  time 
been  able  to  take  it  seriously.  It  had  seemed 
to  me  a  delightful  piece  of  impudence  to  give  a 
dancing-party  in  New  York  without  a  license 
46 


A  Party   at   Madeira^s 

from  the  mayor  or  the  co-operation  of  Mrs.  Van 
Pelt  or  any  of  the  great  social  powers  that  we 
read  about  in  the  newspapers.     As  a  joke  it  had 
amused  me  in  prospect;  but  jokes  that  look 
amusing  sometimes  fall  fiat  in  execution,  and 
irresponsible  as  I  was  I  had  tremors  of  appre- 
hension as  to  how  this  joke  would  be  taken.     I 
asked  Rufus  Hartley,  kindest  of  men,  and  of 
mature  years  like  me,  to  come  early  and  hold 
up  my  spirits  over  the  crisis.     He  has  intimate 
friends  who  are  of  the  world  of  fashion,  and  has 
been  to  a  few  dancing-parties  every  winter  for 
the  last  forty  years,  and  even  gives  them  him- 
self sometimes.     I  felt  that  I  could  lean  upon 
him,  and  I  did.     He  was  in  admirable  spirits, 
and  full  of  confidence,  and  so  prompt  in  ren- 
dering his  good  offices  that  his  hat-check  was 
No.  1  and  mine  No.  2.     My  wife  and  I,  Hen- 
rietta and  my  niece,  Sarah  Joyce,  drove  down 
together.    Mrs.  Hazard's  carriage  came  up  as 
ours  left  Madeira's  door,  and  Cousin  Augusta's 
cab  followed  hers  so  close  that  we  all  went  in 
together,  a  devoted  squad  fit  to  make  even  a 
forlorn  hope  realize  its  best  intentions.    Alonzo 
47 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

was  at  our  heels,  and  a  couple  of  Sarah's  de- 
voted young  men  were  close  after  him.  After 
that  I  ceased  to  take  special  notice  of  rein- 
forcements. People  came;  the  band  began. 
A  lot  of  girls  that  seemed  to  know  Henrietta 
were  dancing  presently  with  young  men  whom 
Alonzo  seemed  to  know.  My  wife  was  shaking 
hands  with  a  procession  of  people,  I  was  say- 
ing "How  do  you  do?"  to  every  one  I  had  ever 
heard  of,  and  many  others,  and  Cousin  Augusta 
and  Mrs.  Hazard  and  Rufus  Hartley  were  dif- 
fusing themselves  about  like  ice-breakers,  leav- 
ing motion  behind  wherever  things  showed  the 
least  tendency  to  congeal.  By  half-past  ten 
there  ceased  to  be  any  question  that  it  was  a 
real  party,  and  I  found  myself  carried  along  by 
a  strong  current  of  activity.  Indeed,  it  was  so 
strong,  and  so  successfully  stimulated  by  Mrs. 
Hazard  and  her  husband.  Cousin  Augusta, 
Sarah,  and  Hartley,  to  say  nothing  of  my  wife, 
that  I  found  leisure  to  draw  out  and  inspect  the 
assembly.  Francis  Joy  stopped  to  speak  to 
me. 

"Very    interesting    party.    Bill,"    he    said. 
48 


A  Party   at  Madeira's 

"Enough  people  that  I  know,  but  lots  I  don't. 
Who's  that  handsome  woman  yonder  in  the 
violet  garb  and  the  big  sunburst?" 
"That's  Mrs.  Bingham  of  Cleveland." 
"Who's  she  talking  to?    I  ought  to  know 
the  man,  but  I  can't  place  him." 

"Charles  Waters,  the  architect.  You  must 
remember.  He  came  here  from  Boston.  He 
built  something  for  the  Binghams — a  house,  or 
a  church,  or  something.  He  married  here. 
There's  his  wife  yonder,  dancing  w^ith  ^  ^.m  Park. 
She  was  Miss  Ringgold.  Her  father  came  here 
from  Baltimore — oh,  twenty  years  ago — and 
brought  her  with  him.  Sam  Park  has  cousins 
in  Baltimore." 

"Thanks.     I'll  speak  to  Waters." 
Hartley  came  up.     "William,  who's  that  be- 
nevolent old  lady  sitting  yonder?     Your  wife 
introduced  me  to  her.     She's  got  a  daughter 
here  somewhere,  whom  I've  met  before." 

"Mrs.  Wilson  —  Mrs.  Wilson    of   Worcester. 

She  has  a  son  in  Chicago,  and  goes  there.     He's 

counsel  for  the  St.  Paul,  Chattahoochee,  and 

Gulf,  and  when  you  were  receiver  for  the — " 

49 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"  I  remember.  I  met  the  girl  at  her  brother's 
home.     Nice  girl.     I'll  go  and  find  her." 

Mrs.  Hazard  was  passing.     I  accosted  h  r. 

"I  beg  to  congratulate  you,  Mrs.  Hazard, on 
the  success  of  your  party,  ma'am." 

"My  party,  indeed!  But  it  is  a  nice  party, 
isn't  it?  But  do  tell  me  who  is  that  tall,  clean- 
shaven man  over  there?  Your  wife  presented 
him  to  me.  Mr.  Ryan  or  something;  I  met  his 
wife,  too." 

"Tryo^.  Sempronius  Tryon.  He  came  here 
from  Denver.  His  wife  is  from  Philadelphia, 
and  a  great  friend  of  our  cousin  Augusta.  There 
she  is  yonder,  talking  to  Jack  Penderson.  You 
know  he  came  here  from  Philadelphia,  too." 

"  And  how  did  the  Philadelphia  lady  meet  the 
man  from  Denver?" 

"  At  Colorado  Springs,  of  course.  She  visited 
a  pulmonary  relative  there.  Take  note  of 
Tryon,  Mrs.  Hazard.  He  is  most  reniunerative 
in  various  particulars,  and  few  know  more  than 
he  about  mines." 

"So?    Thanks.     P 11  not  forget  him." 

Seeing  that  Julia  Morison  seemed  to  be  un- 
50 


A  Party   at  Madeira's 

occupied  for  the  moment,  I  went  over  to  her. 
She  is  one  of  Henrietta's  contemporaries  that  I 
happened  to  have  known  since  she  wore  short 
dresses. 

"Would  JuUa  dance  a  dance  with  an  old 
man?''  said  I,  and  Julia  would,  and  did,  and  I 
sat  down  beside  her  afterwards. 

"I  hope,"  said  I,  "that  your  worthy  parents 
are  having  fun  here,  Julia." 

"I  think  they  are,  Mr.  Hardy.  Father  said 
it  was  the  second  dancing-party  he  had  been  to 
since  he  left  St.  Paul,  and  probably  the  last  he 
would  ever  adorn,  and  he  has  seemed  very  much 
disposed  to  make  the  most  of  it.  He's  over 
there  gossiping  with  Mrs.  Aspen.  You  know 
she's  mother's  half-cousin,  and  I  dare  say  she's 
telling  him  about  mother's  relatives  in  Co- 
lumbus." 

Just  then  Araminta  came  up  and  took  me 
away  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Thompson,  who  was  Miss 
Jordan  of  Charleston,  until  she  married  one  of 
the  Connecticut  Thompsons.  Araminta  has  a 
very  soft  spot  for  the  Jordans,  and  I  knew  it 
was  essential  to  her  comfort  that  Mrs.  Thomp- 

51 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

son  should  be  happy  at  our  party,  and  I  did  my 
best,  though  there  wasn't  much  to  do,  for  she 
had  fallen  in  with  the  Bookstavers,  who  came 
here,  you  remember,  from  Washington  after 
Cleveland's  first  term.  The  Thompsons  were  in 
Washington  for  a  couple  of  years  along  about 
that  time. 

Alonzo  happened  in  reach  just  at  that  mo- 
ment, and  his  mother  caught  him  and  exhibited 
him  with  maternal  pride  to  Mrs.  Thompson. 
I  don't  know  why  she  is  proud  of  Alonzo  at  this 
stage  of  his  career,  when  he  represents  chiefly 
the  nourishment  and  education  that  his  parents 
have  provided  for  him,  and  the  clothes  that  are 
furnished  by  a  tailor  whose  bills  come  to  me. 
But  his  mother  is  proud  of  him,  and  I  admit 
that  he  seems  to  have  assimilated  the  nourish- 
ment and  the  education  pretty  successfully,  and 
that  the  clothes  fit  him,  and  that  he  becomes 
them.  I  don't  know  that  much  more  can  be 
expected  of  him  at  his  age,  and  indeed  I  am  a 
little  self-complacent  about  him  myself. 

"Alonzo,"  said  I,  "who's  that  young  chap 
dancing  with  Henrietta?" 
52 


A  Party  at  Madeira's 

"Job  Cartright,  father." 

"Where  did  you  find  him?" 

"Why,  you  know  Job!  Don't  you  remem- 
ber seeing  him  at  Class  Day?  He  was  in  my 
class.  He's  from  Providence,  and  is  studying 
medicine  here." 

I  did  remember  Job,  with  Alonzo's  help. 

I  took  Mrs.  Wilson  out  to  supper.  "It  was 
very  good  of  you  to  come,"  I  said  to  her. 

"I  am  very  much  astonished  to  be  here,  but 
Emily  said  I  must  come,  and  just  brought  me. 
The  last  dancing-party  I  went  to  in  New  York 
was  at  Uncle  James's  house  down  on  Washing- 
ton Square." 

"  They  have  them  there  still.  I  dare  say  you 
w^ould  find  old  acquaintances  down  there." 

"Most  of  my  old  friends  have  moved  to 
Greenwood,  and  I  don't  know  where  the  rest 
are,  except  one  at  Sing  Sing.  Other  places 
hereabouts  are  so  changeable.  Tell  me,  who  is 
that  gentleman  with  Emily?" 

"Mr.  Hartley,  a  lawyer.     Don't  you  remem- 
ber a  family  of  Hartleys  that  used  to  live  in 
Stuyvesant  Square  thirty  years  ago?" 
53 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Why,  bless  you!  is  that  Richard  Hartley's 
son?  I  remember  perfectly  hearing  of  Richard 
Hartley  when  I  was  a  young  girl.  He  came 
here  from  Albany  to  practise  law,  and  married 
some  one  from  somewhere  in  the  western  part 
of  New  York  State." 

"That's  it!  Rufus's  mother  was  one  of  the 
Garnets,  of  Canandaigua.  His  father  managed 
to  send  down  roots  in  the  crevices  in  Manhat- 
tan's rock,  and  Rufus  has  lived  and  labored  and 
prospered  here  pretty  much  all  his  life,  and  is 
now  one  of  the  oldest  residents." 

"I  haven't  seen  his  wife." 

"He  hasn't  any,  and  never  had,  and  I  sup- 
pose that  accounts  for  his  being  still  a  resident 
of  New  York  and  being  here  to-night.  When 
one  generation  of  a  family  has  labored  success- 
fully in  New  York,  the  next  generation  is  apt 
to  live  in  a  private  car.  But,  you  know,  ma- 
tured bachelors  are  the  creatures  of  habit,  and 
don't  readily  migrate." 

"But  plenty  of  the  older  New  York  families 
still  live  here." 

"Plenty  of  them  have  houses  here — splendid 

54 


A  Party   at   Madeira^s 

ones,  some  of  them — which  most  of  them  use 
chiefly  as  convenient  points  of  departure.  The 
people  who  really  live  in  New  York  are  chiefly 
people  like  me  who  work  there,  and  can't  afford 
to  leave." 

"But  you  think  people  don't  feel  at  home 
here  any  more?" 

"Everybody  feels  at  home  here;  that's  the 
beauty  of  the  place." 

"What's  everybody's  home  is  nobody's!" 

"  I  don't  know.  Mrs.  Gray,  whom  I  met  the 
other  day,  was  born  here,  and  lived  abroad 
fifteen  years  after  she  was  married,  and  then 
came  back.  She  hasn't  got  back  to  the  soil 
quite,  for  she  lives  in  the  sixth  story  of  an  apart- 
ment-house, but  New  York  is  really  home  to 
her." 

"Has  she  got  any  one  buried  here?" 

"  I  dare  say.  Her  father,  probably,  and  very 
likely  others." 

"That's  a  test;  not  conclusive,  but  a  test. 

We  may  live  anywhere;  we  may  die  anywhere. 

Like  as  not  I  shall  die  in  Chicago,  on  a  visit  to 

my  son — and,  oh!  I  don't  want  to  be  registered 

55 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

from  there — but  where  we  bury  our  folks,  that 
is  where  we  are  apt  to  belong." 

"Yes;  but  the  trouble  is,  we  scatter  our 
burials.  With  grandparents  here  and  there,  and 
your  own  parents  elsewhere,  and  your  wife's 
relatives  somewhere  else,  all  the  cemeteries  get 
to  seem  hospitable  after  a  while,  and  ties  weaken 
out  of  their  multiplicity.  It  doesn't  quite  ac- 
cord any  longer  with  American  enterprise  to 
have  two  generations  of  the  same  family  buried 
in  the  same  place.  It  implies  a  lack  of  initia- 
tive." 

"  It's  the  whole  country,  then,  that's  restless, 
and  not  New  York  alone." 

"No  doubt.  New  York  changes  only  be- 
cause the  country  keeps  boiling  over  into  it  all 
the  time.  The  fire  fails  not,  and  into  the  pot 
goes  a  steady  stream  from  Europe  on  one  side 
and  all  America  on  the  other,  and  the  scum — 
oh,  the  scum  keeps  rising  undoubtedly.  When 
the  juice  is  pretty  well  boiled  out  of  the  folks 
they  rise  to  the  top  and  move  on,  or  their  chil- 
dren do,  and  lucky  they  are  if  they  have  means 
of  transportation." 

56 


A  Party   at   Madeira's 

"But  the  people  who  own  the  town?  Doesn't 
any  one  feel  any  longer  that  New  York  belongs 
to  him?" 

"Croker  does,  no  doubt,  So  possibly  does 
William  Astor;  but  you  know  they  both  live  in 
England  now.  What  they  like  about  England 
is,  doubtless,  that  they  don't  own  it,  and  are  not 
responsible  for  the  way  it  is  run.  And  that  is 
very  much  what  we  who  happen  to  be  living  in 
New  York  like  about  New  York.  New  York 
grows  on  you,  too — if  you  manage  to  carry 
weight  enough  to  avoid  being  scummed  off. 
Mrs.  Ransom — who  was  the  daughter  of  Darius 
Cobb  of  Detroit — who  has  lived  here  twenty 
years,  told  my  wife  the  other  day  that  after  you 
had  lived  here  ten  years  or  so,  all  of  a  sudden 
it  began  to  be  home.  It's  a  pretty  shuddery 
thought,  though,  to  have  no  home  but  New 
York!" 

"When  it  was  my  home  I  liked  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Wilson,  "and  I  like  it  still,  and  I  shall  come 
back  as  long  as  my  hotel  lasts,  at  any  rate. 
But  I'm  going  to  be  buried  in  Worcester.  I'd 
rather  be  buried  in  some  permanent  place." 
57 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

Then  we  both  drank  a  Utile  champagne  and 
meditated,  and  I  dare  say  we  both  reahzed  the 
same  truth — that  it  was  time  we  were  abed. 

The  working- classes  began  to  go  home  after 
supper;  the  young  and  the  faithful  held  on  a 
while  longer;  but  a  little  after  one  Rufus  Hart- 
ley declared  that  as  there  was  no  ordinance 
against  it,  and  inasmuch  as  we  had  hired  the 
hall,  and  could  control  the  music,  we  should 
dance  a  Virginia  reel.  We  did  it.  Mrs.  Haz- 
ard danced  it  with  me,  and  Hartley  with  Ara- 
minta.  As  many  of  Henrietta's  girls  as  had 
not  been  dragged  off  by  inexorable  parents  had 
their  choice  of  all  Alonzo's  young  men.  Cousin 
Augusta  paired  away  with  Tom  Hazard;  Sarah 
Joyce  had  two  partners — she  was  just  getting 
into  the  spirit  of  it,  she  said — and  we  had  hands 
across  and  down  the  middle  with  a  final  blaze 
of  cheerful  animation. 

"Araminta,"  said  I,  as  we  waited  for  the 
night  elevator-man  to  wake  up  and  let  us  in, 
"it  was  a  nice  party.  It  did  you  credit.  Did 
I  tell  you  what  I  heard  Mrs.  Aspen  say  to  Mrs. 
Bingham?  She  said,  ^I  have  had  a  good  time, 
58 


rnT^q-^.4 
d 


!  f  '  ■  I  '  !  ^  ^-=^ 


p  y'^  A  ■  Ji. 


WE    ALL    WENT    IX    TOGETHER 


A   Party    at   Madeira^s 

and  I  have  met  people  from  Keokuk  and  Kala- 
mazoo, and  every  town  in  the  country  except 
New  York.'  'Maybe  that's  why  you've  liked 
it!'  said  Mrs.  Bingham." 

"  Pshaw !  there  were  a  hundred  and  fifty  peo- 
ple there  from  New  York." 

"Yes,  but  a  hundred  and  forty-five  of  them 
grew  up  somewhere  else.  I  think  that  was  the 
common  tie  that  made  the  company  hang  to- 
gether. It's  a  great  feat  to  gather  two  hundred 
polite  people  in  a  big  city  who  have  so  much  in 
common.  Think  how  absurdly  impossible  it 
would  have  been  to  do  it  anywhere  else!" 


The  Making  of  a  Match 


The  Making  of  a  Match 


RS.  HEREON  sat  at  a  small 
table  in  a  hotel  restaurant. 
Opposite  her  was  Judge 
Finch,  who  had  happened 
in. 

"And  Susan,"  the  judge 
was  saying,  "  finds  no  one  good  enough  for  her?" 
"Her  cousin  Matilda  describes  Susan's  atti- 
tude as  'choosing.'  Very  'choosing,'  Susan  is 
nowadays,  Matilda  says— meaning  apparently 
that  she  cannot  seem  to  make  a  choice.  We 
used  to  call  it  'difficult.'" 

"New  girls,   new  language,   but  apparently 
the  same  situations." 

"  I  don't  know  that  Susan  is  a  marrying  girl. 
At  any  rate,  she  doesn't  seem  in  the  least  un- 
easy in  the  single  state." 
63 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Oh,  well,  at  twenty-four  there's  still  hope. 
Susan  must  be  about  twenty-four  now." 

"  Twenty-six  her  last  birthday,  and  the  spring 
and  the  summer  have  come  and  gone  since 
then." 

"Gracious!  how  years  pile  up!  Twenty-six! 
and  the  spring  has  come  and  the  summer  is 
ended,  and  Susan  is  not  yet  saved  from  her- 
self!   Yet  she  must  have  had  opportunities!" 

"Oh  yes,  opportunities  a-plenty:  oppor- 
tunities in  town;  opportunities  in  the  country; 
steamer  opportunities;  opportunities  abroad, 
and  on  the  coast  of  Maine,  and  in  Washington; 
late  spring  opportunities  in  Florida;  private- 
car  opportunities;  opportunities  in  civil  life;  in 
business  life;  possible  opportunities  in  the  army 
and  the  navy,  in  the  simple  life  and  the  life  of 
leisure." 

"Dear  me!  has  the  poor  child  been  so  pes- 
tered with  followers?  She  must  have  formed 
the  fatal  habit  of  rejection." 

"  I  don't  mean  that  she  has  had  such  a  myriad 

of  offers.     An  opportunity  does  not  necessarily 

imply  an  offer  of  marriage.     Susan  hates  offers. 
64 


The   Making   of   a   Match 

She  says  they  take  away  her  appetite  and  make 
her  head  ache." 

"She  stands  her  possible  suitors  off  betimes, 
then.     I  suppose  that  is  possible." 

"Usually  it  can  be  managed  without  much 
difficulty  —  at  least  it  used  to  be  so — though 
sometimes  it  involves  a  change  of  base.  There 
are  mothers  who  have  to  pack  their  girls  up 
and  run  away  from  detrimentals.  I  rather  envy 
them.  When  I  pack  up  and  run  it  is  because 
Susan  demands  a  change  of  environment  to  save 
herself  the  trouble  of  discouraging  some  threat- 
ening aspirant,  usually  a  fairly  eligible  one.  I 
have  stopped  humoring  her  in  that  way.  I  tell 
her  she  must  just  make  herself  more  disagree- 
able, for  I  am  too  old  to  go  straggling  about 
with  a  runaway  daughter." 

"Is  she  learning  to  put  out  her  thorns?" 

"I  don't  know.  It  seems  to  come  hard  for 
her  to  be  unattractive.  You  see,  the  girl  is 
clever  and  handsome  and  amiable,  and  these  are 
not  repellent  attributes,  however  they  are  man- 
aged. I  am  just  tired  of  her.  I  wish  she  would 
marry  and  done  wdth  it,  and  so  does  her  father; 
65 


The   Courtship  of  a  Carcftil  Man 

though  he  dotes  on  her,  and  is  less  concerned 
about  her  offishness  than  I  am,  because  he 
doesn't  want  to  part  with  her.  Neither  do  I, 
but  she  might  better  marry  if  she  can  suit  her- 
self, and  for  her  own  sake  I  wish  she  would." 

"My  heart  bleeds  for  you  in  this  trouble.  If 
you  think  my  Arthur  might  possibly  suit  her,  it 
might  be  arranged.     But  would  it  suit  you?" 

"Why  not?  I'm  reasonable  enough.  The 
trouble's  with  Susan.  Arthur?  What  is  the 
child  like?  Has  he  made  you  much  trouble? 
How  old  is  he?" 

"  He  has  made  me  trouble  enough,  but  it  has 
been  chiefly  the  trouble  of  maintaining  him 
and  getting  him  taught  his  trade.  He's  twenty- 
eight:  a  suitable  -  enough  age,  and  he's  like— 
I  don't  know.     He  is  a  good,  honest  lad." 

"Where  has  he  kept  himself?  It  seems  a 
long  time  since  I  saw  him  last." 

"He  has  been  learning  to  be  a  doctor.  He 
wound  up  at  Vienna,  where  he  stayed  a  year, 
and  only  got  back  and  put  his  name  out  this 
summer." 

"Poor  you!    How  very  long  it  takes  now! 
66 


The   Making   of   a   Match 

Your  back  must  ache  with  carrying  him.  I 
don't  think  Susan  will  ever  marry  a  doctor. 
She  will  probably  think  that  if  she  is  going 
to  have  a  man  at  all,  she  must  have  a  whole 
man  to  herself,  and  doctors  never  can  call  their 
souls,  or  their  time,  or  anything  their  own. 

"I  see;  one  trouble  with  Susan  is  that  you 
have  over-indulged  her.  If  you  have  brought 
her  up  to  think  she  can  have  what  she  wants, 
no  wonder  you  are  in  trouble.  Do  get  over 
that  idea.  It's  very  generous  in  me  to  suggest 
Arthur  at  all.  Of  course  it  is  no  more  than  a 
suggestion.  If  you  accepted,  I  could  not  con- 
tract to  deliver  the  goods,  any  more  than  you 
could  contract  to  receive  them." 

"I  will  be  more  humble.  Will  it  be  necessary 
to  detach  Arthur  from  any  other  object  before 
we  bring  him  in  range  of  Susan,  or  does  he 
happen  to  be  fancy  free?" 

"I  think  he  is  already  detached.  So  far  as 
I  know,  all  the  girls  for  whom  he  had  a  special 
kindness  have  married  stock-brokers  or  favored 
sons  while  he  has  been  studying  medicine.  I 
am  really  a  little  uneasy  about  him.  He  seems 
67 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

to  regard  girls  merely  as  possible  subjects  of 
profitable  diseases,  which  is  horrible." 

"Has  he  always  been  so?" 

"Dear,  no!  He  was  almost  dangerously  sus- 
ceptible in  early  life,  but  being  a  poor  young 
man  he  had  to  get  over  so  many  infatuations 
that  I  suppose  it  made  him  cautious.  Perhaps 
he  took  something  for  it.  Maybe  the  disease 
just  ran  its  course  and  left  him  immune — ap- 
parently immune — for  a  time.  But  now  that 
he  is  by  way  of  beginning  to  make  a  living,  a 
few  fresh  pangs  might  soften  him  up  and  do 
him  good." 

"You  quite  interest  me  in  Arthur.  Perhaps 
he  would  make  us  a  week-end  visit  in  the 
country  next  week.     Does  he  ride?" 

"Oh  yes — when  he  gets  a  chance." 

"  Susan  rides  indef atigably  at  this  time  of  the 
year,  and  I  dare  say  will  show  your  young  doc- 
tor the  country.  He  will  get  away  from  the 
town  for  forty-eight  hours,  anyway.  I  will 
write  him  a  note,  and  trust  to  you  to  remind 
him  that  he  once  knew  us." 

With  that  Mrs.  Herron  put  down  her  napkin, 
68 


The   Making   of   a   Match 

gathered  up  her  belongings,  and  proceeded  from 
the  restaurant  to  do  what  was  left  of  the  errands 
that  had  brought  her  to  town. 

"I  hope  Arthur  will  come,"  she  said,  as  she 
took  her  seat  in  a  cab.  "I  shall  want  to  see 
him,  whether  Susan  does  or  not." 

New  York  is  at  best  only  a  second-rate  place 
tp  be  in  in  October.  Not  that  it  is  so  bad.  It 
is  no  longer  hot.  It  catches  some  brilliant  days, 
when  the  air  tastes  fairly  good  in  spite  of  all 
the  dust  and  all  the  flavors  of  the  city.  But 
the  better  the  day  and  the  better  the  air,  the 
more  do  rightly  constituted  persons  regret  that 
it  should  be  w^asted  in  town.  For  the  autumn 
is  a  precious  season.  They  call  its  days  melan- 
choly. Maybe  they  are,  but  they  are  delicious, 
and  full  of  inspirations,  not  to  be  missed  if  one 
can  help  it.  One  does  miss  most  of  them  in 
New  York.  Central  Park  in  the  spring  is  fairly 
responsive  to  the  touch  of  nature.  The  grass 
grows,  the  leaves  come  out,  there  are  lovely  blos- 
soms; the  sights  and  smells  of  spring  are  strong 
enough  to  pervade  the  place  in  spite  of  its  bor- 
69 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

der  of  stone  houses.  And  the  Uttle  parks,  too, 
with  their  formal  flower-beds,  have  a  real  air 
of  spring  about  them.  But  the  charm  of  autumn 
is  too  subtle  to  be  caught  in  parks.  There  are 
no  flowers.  The  autumn  smells  are  faint  scents 
of  dead  leaves  and  of  wet  earth  and  of  the 
pungent  smoke  from  brush-heaps.  There  is 
smoke  enough  in  town  from  the  boiling  asphalt 
and  hoisting  engines  and  oil-refineries  and  the 
Uke,  but  it  hasn't  much  autumnal  quality.  One 
wants  leaves  underfoot  in  October,  and  the 
color  of  the  dying  foliage.  Central  Park  has 
little  of  either.  The  dying  foliage  there  merely 
gets  dirty  and  drops,  and  is  carted  off.  The 
Park  is  better  than  the  streets,  but  it  is  not 
good  enough.  The  bigger  and  simpler  parks 
in  the  Bronx  are  much  more  like  the  real  coun- 
try, but  they  are  not  in  town. 

Arthur  Finch  had  spent  most  of  the  summer 
in  town,  where  hospital  duties,  highly  prized  by 
beginning  doctors,  had  kept  him  busy.  He  was 
freer  now  that  his  older  brethren  were  getting 
back  from  their  vacations,  and  it  took  no  pa- 
rental urging  to  bring  from  him  a  prompt  "  Yes, 
70 


The   Making   of   a   Match 

thank  you!"  in  response  to  Mrs.  Herron's  note. 
He  picked  up  Mr.  Herron  on  the  ferry-boat. 
They  read  the  papers  together  on  the  train,  and 
got  out  at  Antwerp  in  time  to  have  dayhght  for 
their  drive  from  the  station  to  the  house.  They 
had  a  cup  of  tea,  with  the  pleasant,  desultory 
discourse  that  timely  tea  invites.  They  dressed , 
they  dined;  they  played  two  or  three  rubbers 
of  bridge.  It  was  an  easy,  pleasant,  well- 
ordered  household,  its  members  on  good  terms 
with  one  another,  the  cook,  and  the  world. 
Arthur  liked  it,  and  his  spirit,  a  little  jaded  by 
a  good  deal  of  anxious  work,  took  kindly  to 
repose.  Mrs.  Herron  called  him  by  his  first 
name,  and  upbraided  him  when  his  makes  were 
bad  or  his  cards  poor. 

The  next  morning  Susan  took  him  to  ride. 
"  How  much  of  a  horseman  are  you,  Dr.  Finch?" 
she  asked  him. 

"I  try  to  continue  with  the  horse  when  he 
is  going  my  way,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  know  that 
I  can  say  much  more  than  that." 

"But  I  think  you  have  been  on  a  horse  be- 
fore." 

71 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Oh  yes." 

"If  that  horse  you  are  on  now  wanted  to 
jump  a  fence,  would  you  let  him?" 

"I  think  so,  if  it  was  not  too  high,  and  he 
seemed  bent  on  it,  and  you  assured  me  that  he 
could  do  it,  and  the  other  side  of  the  fence 
looked  hospitable." 

"Oh,  he  can  do  it,  and,  having  an  ardent 
nature,  he  will  want  to  do' anything  he  sees  my 
mare  do,  and  she  is  quite  likely  to  jump  a  fence 
or  two  when  the  fields  invite  on  a  fine  morning 
like  this.  But  if  you  prefer  to  keep  to  the 
road,  we  will  keep  to  the  road." 

"Not  at  all;  I  am  of  an  aspiring  nature  my- 
self, though  timid;  and,  though  an  ignorant 
horseman,  I  am  not  entirely  unpractised.  I  like 
very  well  to  go  across  country  when  the  fences 
are  not  all  wire.  I  suppose  your  mare  doesn't 
jump  wire  fences,  does  she?" 

"  Not  when  I.  am  on  her.  But  are  you  really 
of  an  aspiring  nature,  and  really  timid?  And 
isn't  that  rather  a  painful  conflict  of  qual- 
ities?" 

"  Oh  no ;  not  to  hurt.  It  only  means  a  balance 
72 


The  Making    of   a   Match 

of  faculties.  Aspiration  makes  for  energy,  and 
timidity  for  prudence.  Folks  who  are  not  afraid 
have  to  cultivate  prudence  as  a  mental  accom- 
plishment. Timid  persons  like  me  get  it  by 
instinct,  and  can  put  so  much  more  of  their 
minds  on  the  cultivation  of  the  aggressive  quali- 
ties." 

"But  timid  people  are  afraid.  You  can't 
make  me  believe  that  it's  nice  to  be  afraid." 

"I  sha'n't  try.  It  isn't  nice  to  be  afraid, 
though  a  brisk,  lively  apprehension  is  often 
timely.  There  is  an  extreme  of  physical  timid- 
ity which  is  a  great  misfortune.  But  the  or- 
dinary, governable  timidity  of  an  educated  and 
disciplined  person  isn't  so  bad.  It  only  means 
that  he  has  to  ride  himself  with  spurs  some- 
times instead  of  a  curb." 

"Ride  himself!" 

"Yes;  don't  you  think  so?" 

"  I  am  not  used  to  splitting  myself  in  two  like 
that." 

"It's  only  a  figure  of  speech.  You  compel 
yourself  and  control  yourself,  don't  you?" 

"When  I  want  to  do  anything  I  do  it,  if  I 
73 


The  Cotrrtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

can;  and  when  I  don't  want  to  do  anything  I 
don't  do  it,  if  I  can  help  it." 

"What  a  nice,  simple,  direct  nature!  What 
fun  you  must  have  living!" 

"Don't  you?" 

"I  have  enough;  most  of  it  m  small  ways. 
Work  is  pretty  interesting — at  least  mine  is 
getting  to  be  so.  Success  is  pleasant  even  in 
small  things." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  success?" 

"Oh  —  doing  things  right  and  getting  good 
results." 

"I  think  you  must  like  doctoring." 

"It  isn't  bad  if  you  can  learn  how,  and  don't 
blunder  too  much,  and  don't  have  to  make  too 
much  money  at  it." 

"What  heresy!  Don't  you  want  to  make 
money?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind,  but  I  don't  want  to  have 
to  make  very  much  very  soon.  That's  slavery. 
But  I  sha'n't  have  to  make  very  much  for  a 
long  time  to  come,  please  Heaven." 

"I  think  you  are  a  very  odd  person,  you  have. 
such  queer  views.    When  will  you  be  .fifty?" 

74 


The  Making   of   a  Match 

"Along  about  1925,  if  I  am  there.  But  why 
queer?" 

"Don't  you  know  that  society  is  divided  into 
people  who  have  money  enough  and  want  more, 
and  people  who  haven't  enough  and  want  as 
much  as  possible  as  soon  as  possible?  Where 
do  you  come  in?" 

"I  don't  come  in  yet.     I  am  a  bachelor." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  it  is  getting  married 
that  makes  men  so  greedy?" 

"  They  have  to  be  greedy,  poor  things,  if  they 
are  married,  unless  they  have  independent  fort- 
unes." 

"  I  have  heard  of  bachelors  who  seemed  fairly 
greedy.  I  have  even  known  of  cases  where  it 
was  thought  that  men  got  married  because  they 
were  disinclined  to  provide  themselves  with  an 
independent  maintenance." 

"  I  dare  say  that  happens  sometimes,  though 
it  never  seemed  to  me  an  astute  proceeding  to 
marry  money  for  the  sake  of  money  and  give 
yourself  in  part  pajnnent." 

"I  hope  you  won't  do  that." 

"A  timid  nature  like  mine  naturally  shrinks 
6  75 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

from  such  perils.  I  trust  that  you  also  will 
avoid  them." 

"  I  certainly  shall  try.  Do  you  see  that  snake- 
fence?" 

"Isn't  it  pretty!  And  that  panel  yonder  has 
a  rotten  top  rail  and  good  landing  beyond,  which 
appeals  to  my  timidity." 

"Come  on,  then!  .  .  .  Well,  we  got  over.  Did 
he  take  it  kindly?" 

"Like  a  bird.     Bless  the  horse!" 

"Let  us  keep  to  the  fields  awhile.  We  can 
bear  over  towards  the  left  there  and  through 
the  woods,  and  strike  the  road  again  two  or 
three  miles  back.  Where  the  fences  are  too 
formidable  there  are  always  gates.  I  love  the 
smell  of  the  autumn  woods  when  the  leaves  are 
falling.  Don't  you?  And,  oh,  it's  good  to  get 
off  the  beaten  track  and  pick  one's  own  way 
and  overcome  one's  own  obstacles.  There's  a 
bit  too  much  of  the  beaten  track  in  civilized 
life,  don't  you  think?  There  is  in  a  woman's 
life,  anyway." 

"There  is  in  a  man's  life,  too.  That's  one 
of  the  penalties  of  civilization.  The  compensa- 
76 


The   Making   of   a  Match 

tion  is  that  faster  progress  is  possible  along  the 
beaten  track  than  where  you  shape  your  own 
course  and  break  your  own  road." 

"Oh,  progress!  Yes,  of  a  certain  sort,  no 
doubt.  But  I  get  tired  of  cut-and-dried  prog- 
ress. The  women  get  all  the  cut-and-dried  part, 
and,  if  there  is  any  progress,  the  men  get  it. 
What  kind  of  progress  is  possible  for  a  girl  with 
indulgent  parents  who  provide  for  all  her  needs?" 

"Well,  there  is  alwa^^s  the  possibility  of  dis- 
covering more  wants  and  trying  to  satisfy  them. 
That  seems  to  be  the  chief  thing  we  human 
creatures  are  here  for.  It  isn't  what  the  cate- 
chism suggests  as  the  chief  end  of  man,  but  it 
is  the  most  obvious  process  by  which  civiliza- 
tion advances.  The  whole  business  of  civiliza- 
tion is  a  development  of  fresh  needs  and  a 
scramble  to  supply  them.  Can't  you  think  of 
any  new  wants?" 

"What  a  wise  young  doctor!  What  about 
that  fence  ahead?" 

"I  see  a  gate." 

"I  don't  need  a  gate  yet.     I  have  developed 
a  want  of  excitement." 
77 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Oh,  well,  there's  a  good  place — the  fourth 
panel  from  the  gate.  I'll  give  you  a  lead  this 
time." 

"That  was  nice.  This  really  does  me  good. 
That  fence  was  pretty  well  up  to  four  feet,  but 
you  cracked  the  top  rail  for  me.  Do  you  know, 
I  don't  think  you  are  so  timid  as  you  make  out." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  am.  You  forget  that  this  is  your 
father's  horse,  and  that  your  father's  daughter 
was  looking  on.  Put  me  off  by  myself,  make 
me  responsible  for  the  legs  of  a  borrowed  horse, 
and  take  away  the  inspiration  of  being  under 
your  eye,  and  you  would  see  all  my  natural 
timidity  assert  itself.  It  makes  a  difference — 
Hello!  What  was  that?  It  sounded  like  a 
horn.  There  again — toot,  toot,  toot!  Have  you 
got  a  hunt  in  this  country?" 

"  Sometimes  the  Anniston  hounds  work  down 
this  way." 

"  That  must  be  it.  Let's  have  a  look.  Come 
through  yonder,  where  the  fence  is  broken. 
There's  the  pack,  sure  enough,  and  feathering 
for  all  they  are  worth.  Bless  me,  isn't  that 
pretty!    Do  you  see  the  huntsman?    The  field 

78 


The  Making   of   a  Match 

must  be  beyond  the  wood.  Those  hounds  must 
think  they've  got  something.  Why,  this  is  too 
good  to  beheve.  There  they  go;  hear  them! 
Why,  they  must  be  after  a  fox!  /  see  him !  I 
see  him !  Look  yonder  on  the  hill-side.  Come 
on.  We  need  a  little  of  this  ourselves.  Gra- 
cious, what  luck!" 

On  they  galloped,  both  horses  eager,  over 
fence,  field,  ploughed  land,  and  highway,  cross- 
ing a  railroad,  guided  through  w^oods  by  the 
cry  of  the  hounds,  dodging  down  a  ravine  and 
up  the  other  side,  keeping  the  huntsman  as  well 
in  sight  as  possible,  and  profiting  as  much  as 
they  might  by  his  judgment.  AYhen  he  skirted 
a  wire  fence  they  followed  him,  and  got  through 
where  he  got  through.  When  he  broke  a  rail  or 
a  board  they  steered  for  the  gap.  Having  by 
luck  the  start  of  the  field,  they  had  clear 
going,  and  the  few  riders  who  came  up  by  su- 
perior speed  were  some  distance  away  and  did 
not  bother  them.  Five  miles  of  it,  with  hardly 
a  check,  brought  them  up  to  a  baffled  pack 
clamoring  for  a  fox  that  had  gone  to  earth. 
The  master  of  the  hounds  rode  up  to  them. 
79» 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"The  Anniston  Hounds  are  honored  by  Miss 
Herron's  company/'  he  said.  "I  am  sorry  I 
have  no  brush  to  offer  her.  How  does  it  hap- 
pen that  I  have  never  seen  her  out  before?" 

"My  father  hasn't  encouraged  me  to  hunt, 
Mr.  Felton,  but  I  was  showing  Dr.  Finch  the 
country — I  beg  to  present  Dr.  Finch — and  we 
stumbled  on  the  hounds  by  accident,  and  they 
ran  away  with  him,  and  I  had  to  follow  or  go 
home  alone." 

"Very  glad  it  happened  so.  I  will  send  you 
a  list  of  the  meets,  and  it  may  happen  so  again. 
Very  glad  to  meet  Dr.  Finch,  too,  and  I  hope 
to  see  him  again." 

"But  I  didn't  know  you  hunted  wild  foxes 
hereabout,"  said  Arthur. 

"Ordinarily  we  don't,  but  a  fox  turns  up  now 
and  then  when  we  can  get  an  early  start,"  and 
the  master  smiled. 

"How  far  are  we  from  Antwerp  station,  Mr. 
Felton?"  Susan  asked. 

" Oh,  ten  or  twelve  miles;  but  don't  go  home." 

"What  does  Dr.  Finch  say?" 

''Dr.  Finch  surmises  that  a  five-mile  run  is 

80 


The   Making    of   a   Match 

probably  enough  for  horses  that  are  hardly  in 
hunting  training." 

"  And  twelve  miles  still  to  go.  I  dare  say  Dr. 
Finch  is  right.  Thank  you  for  so  much  good 
sport,  Mr.  Felton,  and  please  start  us  in  the 
right  direction." 

"Down  that  road  a  couple  of  miles.  Take 
the  first  turn  to  the  right,  and  keep  on  till  you 
strike  your  own  neighborhood.     Good-bye." 

"Well,"  said  Arthur,  as  they  rode  away,  "we 
got  in  touch  with  the  strenuous  life  for  nearly 
an  hour.  It  does  one  good  when  it  comes  his 
way,  though  I  have  never  had  much  spunk  about 
going  out  and  looking  for  it.  Wasn't  it  luck  to 
have  caught  on  to  those  hounds!" 

"Wonderful!"  But  Susan's  eyes  twinkled  as 
she  said  so.     He  looked  back  at  her  suspiciously. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  was  a  put-up  job. 
Please,  did  you  know  those  hounds  were  coming 
down  here  to-day?" 

"I  thought  they  might.  The  meet  was  at 
Hebron,  and  last  year  when  they  met  there 
they  came  down  through  those  fields  where  we 
saw  them  first.    I  happened  on  them  there  last 

81 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careftil   Man 

year,  that's  the  truth,  and  I  thought  we  might 
happen  on  them  again." 

"What  a  thoughtful,  considerate  lady!  Did 
you  get  a  run  last  year?" 

"No!  I  had  Alfred  Dyckman  with  me,  and 
I  didn't  dare  take  him.  I  knew  he  would  fall 
off,  and  I  was  afraid  he  would  break  his  neck, 
and  people  would  say  I  did  it  on  purpose." 

"You  seemed  to  have  no  fears  about  me." 

"Oh  no;  you  ride  better  than  he  does;  really, 
you  ride  pretty  well.  And,  besides,  if  you  had 
broken  your  neck,  it  would  have  been  just  an 
accident." 

"Whereas  Mr.  Dyckman—" 

"  Oh,  if  it  had  happened  to  him,  mother  would 
certainly  have  charged  me  with  homicide." 

"Why?" 

"Well,  he  was  so  troublesome.  He's  rather 
troublesome,  anyway,  and  he  was  particularly 
troublesome  about  that  time.  It  is  quite  dif- 
ferent with  you." 

"We're  not  alike,  then?" 

"Not  a  bit.  He's  more  timid  than  you  in 
some  respects,  and  less  so — possibly — in  others. 
82 


The  Making   of   a   Match 

And  he  was  more  civilized  than  you,  in  that  he 
had  developed  lots  more  wants.  He  was  eager 
to  make  more  money,  and  his  mind  ran  on 
stocks,  and — oh,  well,  he  wanted  the  earth  gen- 
erally.    Perhaps  you  know  him." 

"  I  have  met  him,  but  hardly  more  than  that. 
I  don't  know  him  well  enough  to  have  found 
out  that  he  was  troublesome.  You  see,  I  have 
been  away  from  home  a  good  deal  until  this 
last  summer.  If  he  is  so  troublesome,  I  don't 
want  to  know  him." 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  he'd  never  trouble  you  a 
mite.  No  doubt  he  has  his  uses,  and  I  can  even 
imagine  a  person  finding  a  use  for  him.  But 
not  I.  I  was  never  able  to  develop  a  want — as 
you  would  say — that  he  could  meet.  But  that's 
no  particular  discredit  to  him.  It's  the  trouble 
with  men  generally;  they  seem  so  much  more 
disposed,  and  so  much  better  qualified,  to  de- 
velop wants  than  to  supply  them.  Here's  our 
road  to  the  right.  I've  got  some  sandwiches  in 
this  saddle-box.  Have  one?  I  thought  there 
was  a  chance  of  our  being  late  in  getting  back." 

"Thank  you.  You  are  a  kind  lady  to  me 
83 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

this  clay,  but  about  men  in  general  you  seem 
less  kind,  and  I  dare  say  that  by  to-morrow  you 
will  have  lumped  me  in  with  all  the  rest." 

"I'm  not  sure.  You  see,  you  seem  to  me 
peculiar  in  some  respects.  Aren't  you  a  little 
less  greedy  than  the  others?  You  said  you 
didn't  want  to  make  money,  and  you  intimated 
— I  understood  it  so — that  you  w^ere  not  bent 
on  marrying  any  one,  and — well,  I  got  the  im- 
pression that  you  were  resigned  to  your  lot  in 
life,  and  I  had  begun  to  think  that  you  might 
possibly  be  a  useful  subject  for  observation." 

"Who  can  tell?  The  humblest  of  God's 
creatures  in  its  humblest  operations  may  yield 
lessons  of  supreme  wisdom  to  the  inquiring  eye 
that  has  learned  to  see." 

Late  on  Sunday  afternoon,  when  Arthur 
Finch  went  back  to  town,  Susan  took  him  to 
the  station  in  a  light  wagon. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  "for  two  happy  days. 
Are  you  coming  back  to  town  soon?" 

"As  soon  as  the  days  grow  so  short  that 
father  can't  read  the  newspapers  on  the  train 
84 


The   Making    of   a   Match 

coming  out,  and  the  frost  has  killed  the  flowers 
in  mother's  garden,  and  the  roads  are  too  mud- 
dy for  me  to  ride  over." 

"And  that  will  be—?" 

"  Sometime  between  Election  Day  and  Thanks- 
giving, according  to  the  season.  If  the  weather 
holds  good,  and  the  town  gets  tiresome,  come 
back  to  us.  If  mother  doesn't  invite  you,  tele- 
phone out  and  invite  yourself.  If  you  come 
early  enough  on  Saturday,  I'll  take  you  to  ride 
again,  or  you  can  golf  with  father." 

When  she  got  back  to  the  house  her  mother 
stood  waiting,  with  her  hat  on. 

"Take  me  out  for  a  little  air,  Susan."  She 
got  in.  "My  young  man  seemed  to  like  his 
visit.  I  thank  you  for  your  polite  toleration  of 
him.     I  hope  he  didn't  bore  you?" 

"No,  mother.  He  wasn't  very  tiresome.  I 
even  asked  him  to  come  again.  I  think  your 
taste  in  young  men  is  improving." 

"My  luck  may  be  improving;  but  I  had  not 
seen  Arthur  Finch  for  years,  so  it  wasn't  a  case 
of  better  judgment.  He  played  good  bridge,  I 
thought." 

85 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"  Then  you  will  let  him  come  again  if  he  asks. 
I  told  him  he  might  ask.  I  thought  he  was  a 
nice,  safe  man.  He  took  his  fences  well  yester- 
day." 

"You  ought  not  to  have  gone  after  those 
hounds.  I  wish  you  would  not  do  such  things; 
but  if  you  must,  it  is  a  relief  to  have  a  doctor 
along.  I  am  told  that  Arthur  takes  his  work 
seriously,  and  is  thought  to  be  promising." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  is  really  good  at  it.  I  think 
he  picked  up  a  patient  yesterday.  Coming 
home,  we  passed  the  Macks'  cottage,  and  Annie 
Mack  was  walking  about  the  barn-yard,  her 
poor  little  legs  jerking  sixteen  ways  at  once  at 
every  step.  It  just  makes  me  cry  to  see  that 
child.  He  got  off  his  horse,  found  Mack  in  the 
barn,  talked  with  him  and  asked  him  some 
questions,  and  then  he  caught  Annie  and  took 
her  in  his  lap  and  felt  all  of  her  poor  little  bones. 
I  told  him  that  if  he  would  straighten  up  Annie's 
legs  I'd  give  him  the  best  Boston-terrier  puppy 
in  our  next  litter." 

"Susan!" 

"He  said  Annie's  legs  seemed  to  have  been 

86 


The   Making   of   a  Match 

struck  by  lightning,  but  that  he  had  seen  sur- 
geons in  Europe  who  could  do  remarkable  things 
with  them,  and  there  were  men  in  New  York 
who  could  better  them  at  least.  He  is  going 
to  find  out  about  it,  and  possibly  I  am  to  bor- 
row Annie  and  have  her  brought  to  town.  It 
breaks  my  heart  to  think  of  that  child  strug- 
gling through  life  on  those  legs.  They  have 
haunted  me  ever  since  I  first  saw  her." 

"See,  Susan!  There's  an  automobile  com- 
ing.    Do  be  careful.     I'd  hke  to  get  out." 

"Sit  tight,  mother!  There's  no  ditch  here. 
Steady  there,  Jonathan!  There!  He  doesn't 
mind  them  any  more ;  but  really  those  automo- 
bile people  have  no  manners.  They  ought  not 
to  be  allowed  to  go  out  of  sight  of  the  police." 

It  was  early  in  January  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Herron  dined  at  the  Rakoffs',  and  Judge  Finch 
took  Mrs.  Herron  out  to  dinner. 

"I  had  a  glimpse  of  your  promising  young 
son  at  our  house  yesterday,  judge." 

"Did  you?  No  sickness  in  your  family,  I 
hope." 

87 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Not  yesterday;  but  he  lanced  a  felon  for  my 
cook  last  week,  and  I  am  going  to  have  him  in 
to  vaccinate  a  new  maid  as  soon  as  I  can  re- 
member it.  He  seems  to  be  acquiring  a  prac- 
tice." 

"I  hope  so.  And  yesterday — ?" 
"Yesterday  he  was  just  taking  a  cup  of  tea." 
"And  exchanging  conversation,  no  doubt, 
with  your  dangerous  and  difficult  young  daugh- 
ter. And  how  is  your  dangerous  young  daugh- 
ter, Mrs.  Herron?  Do  you  know,  my  wife  is 
liable  to  question  you  at  any  time  about  her 
intentions.  She  begins  to  be  uneasy.  There! 
She  is  looking  at  us  now —  A  glass  of  wine 
with  you,  Mrs.  Finch!  She  says  the  Herrons 
see  more  of  Arthur  this  winter  than  she  does, 
and  she  has  intimated  to  me — I  beg  your  par- 
don— that  Miss  Susan  Herron  has  rather  an 
alarming  reputation  as  a  flirt." 

"Poor  Susan!     The  most  kind-hearted  girl  in 
the  world.     I  trust  you  told  Mrs.  Finch  that 
the  whole  responsibility  of  Arthur's  acquaint- 
ance with  Susan  rested  on  you." 
"No,  I  didn't!    My  professional  experience 
88 


The   Making   of    a  Match 

long  ago  broke  me  of  the  habit  of  making  im- 
pulsive admissions.  Confession  may  be  good 
for  the  soul,  but  it  deranges  the  orderly  pro- 
cedure of  justice.  People  are  so  apt,  in  the 
enthusiasm  of  divulging  news,  to  confess  more 
than  really  happened." 

"But,  judge,  it  was  all  your  suggestion." 

"Was  it,  really?  I  don't  think  I  shall  re- 
member until  I  see  how  it's  coming  out.  Mean- 
while I  trust  my  promising  young  son  is  not 
causing  your  daughter's  parents  any  uneasiness, 
and  that  Susan  has  not  yet  asked  to  be  taken 
abroad." 

"Not  yet,  but  the  season  is  young  still. 
Susan  can't  leave  town  yet,  anyway.  She  has 
a  patient  in  a  hospital.  Did  Arthur  tell  you 
about  Uttle  Annie  Mack?" 

"Little  Annie  Mack?  Not  that  I  remem- 
ber." 

"Annie  lives  out  our  way,  and  her  means  of 
locomotion  are  very  much  impaired,  and  Susan 
has  had  her  brought  in  town  to  a  hospital, 
and—" 

"  Oh,  she  must  be  the  child  with  the  fantastic 

89 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

legs  that  Arthur  told  us  about.  She  has  been 
his  pet  patient  for  a  month  past.  He  makes 
his  mother  buy  dolls  for  her.  Has  he  got  Miss 
Susan  interested  in  her,  too?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  it  was  he  who  got  her 
interested,  or  she  him,  but  Annie  is  certainly- 
very  much  on  Susan's  mind." 

"He  didn't  say  he  had  an  accompUce." 
"A  case  of  hereditary  reticence,  maybe.'' 
"  Possibly.     After  all,  it's  a  good  quality  in  a 
doctor.     You  don't  think  it  is  my  duty  to  warn 
his  mother,  do  you?" 

"And  risk  impairing  Susan's  confidence  in 
her  mother's  discretion?  It  is  not  for  me  to 
urge  any  man  to  keep  anything  from  his  wife, 
but  are  you  sure  it  would  be  news  to  Mrs. 
Finch?  I  have  known  of  cases  where  mothers 
knew  more  about  their  son's  doings  than  fathers 
did.  My  boy  in  college  tells  me  everything." 
"I  dare  say.  I  was  once  a  boy  in  college, 
and  I  have  since  had  a  boy  in  college,  and  I 
know  that  college -boys  are  remarkably  com- 
municative, and  tell  their  mothers  everything 
that  they  think  their  mother's  experience  of 
90 


The   Making   of    a   Match 

life  qualifies  them  to  appreciate.  I  dare  say 
it  is  so  with  young  doctors,  too,  and  that  what, 
if  anything,  they  see  fit  not  to  disclose  is  with- 
held out  of  filial  regard  for  their  mother's  peace 
of  mind." 

"Judge,  you  give  yourself  airs.  That  is  not 
quite  the  sort  of  discourse  which  a  mother  finds 
reassuring." 

"  It  need  not  worry  you.  I  was  only  follow- 
ing up  your  suggestion  that  discretion  ought  to 
be  used  about  forcing  information  upon  mothers 
which  their  sons  may  not  have  seen  fit  to  im- 
part to  them.  The  best  that  can  be  done  for 
boys  is  to  qualify  them  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves, and  we  all  know  that  taking  good  care 
of  one's  self  involves,  first  or  last,  a  fair  capacity 
for  keeping  one's  owm  counsel." 

Late  in  March,  Arthur  Finch  came  home  and 
found  his  mother  with  a  little  dog  asleep  in  her 
lap.  "Why,  mother,"  he  exclaimed,  "where 
did  you  get  that  dog?  Who  ever  could  have 
expected  to  see  my  careful  mother  develop  a 
fancy  for  dogs?" 

7  91 


The   Courtship  of  a  Carcftil  Man 

"She  hasn't.  This  is  not  my  dog.  It  is 
yours.  A  man  brought  it  in  this  basket,  and 
left  this  note  addressed  to  you,  which,  being 
unsealed,  I  have  read,  and  am  not  much  the 
wiser." 

"Let's  see!  'For  Dr.  Finch;  on  account  of  a 
grateful  patient.'  I  haven't  any  grateful  pa- 
tients." 

"  It  came  only  half  an  hour  ago.  I  had  it  put 
in  the  bath-room,  and  it  cried,  and  because  it 
was  your  dog  I  took  it  out  of  the  basket.  But 
I  could  not  let  it  run  around,  and  it  went  to 
sleep  in  my  lap." 

"What  is  it  like?  It's  a  Boston  terrier.  Very 
fashionable  little  dog,  mother.  Who  ever  sent 
me  a  Boston—  Oh!  That  child  with  the 
twisted  legs  that  I  am  looking  after  has  a  friend 
that  raises  Boston  terriers.  Annie's  legs  are  none 
too  good  yet — a  dachshund  would  have  been 
more  appropriate — but  I  am  glad  of  any  sign 
that  her  friends  like  the  way  the  job  is  going!" 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  him?" 

"You  wouldn't  part  a  doctor  from  his  fee, 
would  you?" 

92 


The   Making   of    a   Match 

"I'm  glad  it  isn't  a  Newfoundland.  I  had 
not  thought  of  boarding  a  dog;  but  having  a 
doctor  in  the  house  is  a  convenience,  and  we 
must  put  u^  with  its  incidents." 

When  the  courts  closed  for  the  summer, 
Judge  and  Mrs.  Finch  went  abroad.  The  Her- 
ron  family  spent  the  early  summer  at  Antwerp, 
and  when  Antwerp  grew  too  hot  for  entire  com- 
fort, Susan  and  her  mother  migrated  to  Pema- 
quid  Bay,  in  Maine. 

"Pemaquid  Bay,  Maine,  August  1,  19 — . 
"My  dear  Dr.  Finch, — Can  you  sail  a  boat?  Our 
sailorman  can,  but  I  have  pretty  much  used  up  his 
conversation.  If  you  can  sail  a  boat,  there  is  a  good 
opening  here  for  a  person  of  your  qualifications;  and 
if  not,  our  sailorman  and  I  could  teach  you,  and  it  is  a 
good  place  to  learn.  Father  is  here,  and  thinks  prettj'' 
well  of  the  golf-links.  Mother  would  play  bridge  six 
hours  a  day  instead  of  five,  as  at  present,  if  she  had 
your  help.  My  brother  William  approves  of  our  en- 
vironment, and  says  there  is  'a  remarkably  good  line 
of  girls  hereabouts.'  He  is  young  still,  as  you  know, 
and  so  are  most  of  the  girls ;  but  in  girls — as  you  know 
— youth  is  an  excusable  defect.  The  air  here  is  salu- 
brious, and  is  highly  recommended  by  physicians  to 
persons  who  have  spent  the  month  of  July  in  town. 
93 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

Mother  sends  you  her  compUments,  and  directs  nae 
to  offer  you  the  simple  hospitaUties  of  her  cottage, 
beginning  when  you  arrive,  and  lasting  during  your 
honorable  pleasure.  Yours  sincerely, 

*' Susan  Herron." 


The  issue  of  this  letter  was  the  appearance 
of  Dr.  Arthur  Finch  at  Pemaquid  Bay  on  Au- 
gust 8th.  Three  weeks  later  he  held  the  tiller  of 
the  sail-boat  Glint,  under  orders  of  Miss  Susan 
Herron,  skipper. 

"I  was  thinking  that  before  I  went  back  I 
would  ask  you  to  marry  me^  and  this  is  my  last 
day!" 

"Keep  her  off  a  little;  the  jib's  flapping.  I 
beg  your  pardon.    What  were  you  saying?" 

"  Only  that  I  was  thinking  that  before  I  went 
back  I  would  ask  you  to  marry  me,  and  that 
this  was  my  last  day!" 

"Oh!  Well,  I  — I'm  glad  you  haven't. 
Father  says  he  never  sets  himself  any  vacation 
tasks;  it  spoils  his  fun.  I  think  that's  a  good 
rule.  I  was  going  to  read  a  lot  of  Herbert 
Spencer — the  jib  isn't  pulling  a  mite — while  I 
was  up  here,  and  I  brought  the  books  along; 
94 


The  Making   of    a  Match 

but  I  haven't  opened  them.  The  next  best 
thing  to  not  intending  to  do  anything  in  Au- 
gust is  not  to  do  what  you  intend." 

"  Of  course  that  is  a  sound  general  sentiment, 
but  with  Herbert  Wilson  on  his  way  up  from 
Marblehead  on  a  schooner-yacht,  it  doesn't 
seem  to  me  as  timely  as  it  might." 

"He's  got  the  wind  dead  ahead,  what  there 
is  of  it." 

"It  won't  stay  so,  and  as  I  was  saying — " 

"Really,  you  must  pay  attention  to  sailing 
this  boat,  unless  you  meaiT  to  let  her  gybe  with 
the  sheet  two- thirds  out." 

"You  are  absolutely  discouraging." 

"I  don't  mean  to  turn  a  man  from  the  path 
of  duty  if  his  feet  are  obstinately  set  in  it,  but 
it  is  such  a  nice  sailing-day!" 

''Duty?     Misery!    Duty  f 

"Why  dissemble?  What  other  motive  could 
excuse  such  a  suggestion  in  a  man  of  declared 
sentiments  such  as  yours?  An  ordinary,  trouble- 
some man  might  have  an  ordinary  motive,  but 
not  you!     She's  falling  off  again." 

"Oh,  let  her  drop!  What  have  you  laid  up 
95 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

against  me?    What  sentiments  have  I  ever  de- 
clared?" 

"You  shake  my  faith  in  mankind — you  that 
were  a  bachelor  and  did  not  have  to  be  greedy, 
and  hoped  not  to  be  for  years  to  come.  And  I 
have  thought  of  you  as  a  safe  person,  and  con- 
fided in  you  with  all  the  credulity  of  inex- 
perience— " 

"Inexperience!    Oh,  dear!" 

" — of  inexperience,  and  played  with  you  as 
confidently  as — as — " 

"  I  respect  your  hesitation.     It  becomes  you." 

"And  I  had  thought  you  sincere,  and  you 
turn  out  to  be  merely  plausible.  There's  a 
puff  of  wind  coming.     Do  you  see?" 

"I  didn't  bind  myself  never  to  progress. 
That  was  almost  a  whole  year  ago.  I  had  just 
begun  to  know  you  then.  All  my  professions 
were  suitable  for  a  man  who  had  met  you  only 
the  day  before,  and  had  learned  of  you  chiefly 
as  a  dangerous  young  woman.  I  told  you  that 
civilization  was  a  process  of  developing  wants. 
Am  I  to  be  shut  off  from  the  privileges  of  a 
civilized — " 

96 


The   Making    of   a  Match 

"Excuse  me!  If  you  don't  come  about,  we 
shall  be  on  the  rocks.  If  you  will  pull  in  the 
sheet,  I  will  look  after  the  jib.  There!  You 
were  arguing — ?" 

"Arguing  nothing;  merely  asserting  my  privi- 
lege as  a  civilized  man  to  develop  a  want  in  the 
course  of  a  year." 

"  In  the  course  of  a  year!    What  deliberation!" 

"You  know  better.  A  woman  of  your  ex- 
perience must  have  recognized  that  it  was  virt- 
ually at  first  sight." 

"Only  virtually?  And  you  want  to  go  and 
risk  the  last  of  your  summer  holidays  on  a  mere 
virtuality!" 

"Well,  I  will  speak  to  your  father  as  soon  as 
we  get  ashore." 

"You  won't  make  the  landing  unless  you 
keep  her  up  better.  What  are  you  going  to 
say  to  father?" 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  his  consent  to  my  marry- 
ing you." 

"You  haven't  got  mine  yet." 

"Please  come  and  take  the  tiller  for  a  mo- 
ment." 

97 


The   Cotirtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  will.  Our  sailorman  is 
watching  you  from  the  wharf,  and  he  expects 
you  to  do  credit  to  his  lessons." 

"Then  I  may  speak  to  him?" 

"Not  a  word  to  the  sailorman,  nor  even  to 
father.  Let  my  dear  father  have  his  holiday 
out.  Neither  he  nor  I  can  bear  to  be  pestered 
with  hard  questions  in  August." 

"But  you  are  coming  home  in  a  fortnight." 

"And  meanwhile  you  will  have  a  chance  to 
remember  how  disadvantageous  it  is  to  a  be- 
ginning doctor  to  have  to  concern  himself  about 
money-making." 

"And  you  will  have  a  chance  to  consider 
Herbert  Wilson,  whose  money  is  all  made." 

"Herbert  Wilson  isn't  going  to  be  trouble- 
some. Bring  her  up  without  bumping  her,  and 
you  shall  have  a  long  mark!" 

"That  isn't  just  what  I  want  at  this  moment. 
What  shall  I  do  for  a  whole  fortnight,  until  you 
come  home?" 

"Have  patience,  and  grope  along,  and,  if 
necessary,  write  to  me.  What  is  a  mere  fort- 
night among  two?" 


The   Making    of   a   Match 

"Among  tivo !  It  is  not  much  among  two. 
All  ready  to  come  about!  Mind  the  boom! 
Catch  her,  Johnson!  Thank  you!  That  was 
beautiful.  Please,  lady,  give  me  my  long 
mark!" 

The  wedding  came  after  Easter.  When  the 
bride  and  groom  had  gone  away,  Judge  Finch, 
with  two  glasses  of  champagne,  sought  out  Mrs. 
Herron. 

"I  bring  a  cup  of  consolation  to  the  mother 
of  the  bride." 

"I  think,  judge,  that  you  must  feel  that 
you  invented  this  wedding." 

"  Marriages  are  made  in  heaven.  I  trust  that 
this  one  was.  We  have  not  hindered  it,  cer- 
tainly, but  here's  hoping  that  it  may  turn  out 
to  be  far  better  devised  than  either  you  or  I 
could  have  planned." 

They  drank  the  wine.  Mrs.  Herron  wiped 
her  eyes;  the  judge  snuffled  a  little.  They  both 
smiled. 

"Well,  judge,  it  was  a  sw^eet  wedding,  wasn't 
it?" 

99 


A  Disguised  Providence 


A    Disguised    Providence 


^^^^^^OU  will  be  interested  to  know, 

V^^i^^lxxl  ^^^'  ^^^^  ■'■  ^^  engaged." 

1^1  '*  V^JAS     "Engaged  to  be  married?" 

9\       /^^M     "  ^^-^^^  ^^^  ^^^^  understand- 

^^^Ming." 

^^dJJM     "Why,  Henry!" 

"Why  not,  father?" 

"You  haven't  got  my  consent,  for  one  thing, 

and — my  boy,  what  are  you  getting  engaged 

on?" 

"I  supposed  it  would  strike  you  as  rather 

speculative." 
"Rather." 

"But,  after  all,  I  am  twenty-seven  years  old." 
"Oh  no,  Henry;  twenty-seven  years  young. 

Twenty-seven  years  impecunious;  twenty-seven 

years  rash  and  improvident!" 
103 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"And  I  am  a  practising  lawyer,  with  my 
name  on  an  office  door,  a  fourth  interest  in  a 
stenographer,  and  some  cUents." 

"Chents!     Quorum  pars  maxima  fui.^' 

"And  an  allowance  made  me  by  my  father, 
who  is  a  generous  man,  though  not  rich." 

"An  old,  precarious  man  who  works  for  his 
living,  and  has  a  wife  to  provide  for.  A  reed 
shaken  regularly  by  the  wind  every  spring,  and 
driven  to  Lakewood  and  sometimes  to  Florida. 
A  poor,  propped-up  ruin,  liable  to  fall  in  any 
day,  and  not  over-well  insured.  A  doting  par- 
ent, of  course,  and  yet  one  whose  allowances 
may  not  safely  be  regarded  as  perpetual  an- 
nuities. Allowances  should  be  made  for  the 
young,  Henry.  Allowances  must  often  be  made 
for  engaged  persons;  but.  Lord!  Henry,  what 
are  you  going  to  marry  on?" 

"Now,  father,  don't  take  it  so  hard.  I'll 
bet  I  could  scrape  along  if  you  turned  me 
loose.  I  took  in  nearly  a  hundred  dollars  last 
month,  and  it  is  less  than  two  years  since  I  be- 
gan practice.  Besides,  I  only  said  I  was  en- 
gaged; I'm  not  married  yet.  You'll  see  it  in 
104 


A    Disguised   Providence 

the  papers  when  I'm  married,  so  be  easy.  It 
is  not  such  a  terrible  expense  to  be  engaged, 
though,  if  you  have  a  mind  to  make  some  tem- 
porary enlargement  of  my  resources,  I  can  use 
the  money." 

"I  have  no  doubt,  if  you  really  are  engaged, 
that  you've  run  in  debt  somewhere  for  a  ring." 

"Not  yet,  but  I'm  going  to.  I  haven't  got 
your  consent  yet." 

"Have  you  told  your  mother?" 

"I  thought  I  would  first  give  you  an  oppor- 
tunity to  consent  of  your  own  free  will.  Be- 
sides, mother  is  an  observant  person,  and  goes 
out  a  good  deal  between  breakfast  and  dinner, 
and  reads  the  papers,  and  it  is  hard  to  surprise 
her  with  news." 

"By  thunder!  Henry,  I  believe  you  really 
are  engaged." 

"Aren't  you  ever  going  to  ask  me  who  is 
the  girl?" 

"Of  course,  if  it  is  so,  it's  some  nice  girl.     I 

hadn't  got  to  the  girl.     A  mind  stunned  by  a 

general  proposition  must  clear  before  it  can 

grasp  details.     Twenty-seven  years  young,  be- 

105 


The  Courtship   of   a   Careftil  Man 

longs  to  one  or  two  clubs,  has  a  fair  collection 
of  outstanding  bills,  has  an  allowance  from  an 
impaired  father,  earned  nearly  a  hundred  dol- 
lars last  month,  and  is  engaged  to  be  married, 
and  expects  to  owe  for  a  ring!  Well,  Henry, 
who  is  the  fortunate  lady?" 

"Jane  Templeton  is  the  lady,  sir." 
"Jane  Temple  ton!    Jane  Templeton!    I  seem 
to  know  the  name.    I've  seen  Jane  Templeton 
somewhere,  haven't  I?" 

"Don't  you  remember  a  dinner  we  had  here 
last  month?" 

"Yes;  that's  it.  A  juvenile  dinner,  that  you 
got  up,  and  you  let  your  mother  and  me  come 
to  the  table,  and  your  mother  thought  it  was 
so  considerate  of  you.  Now  Jane  was  there, 
wasn't  she?  And  she  sat —  Where  did  she 
sit,  Henry?" 

"Why,  father,  she  sat  on  your  right!" 
"Lord  bless  me!  so  she  did;  so  she  did!  And 
that's  the  girl.  Dark  hair  and  light-blue  eyes. 
Extraordinarily  nice  eyes.  I  don't  notice  the 
color  of  eyes  once  a  year.  Why,  that's  a  dear 
girl,  Henry.  Let's  see!  She  was  going  to  the 
106 


A   Disguised   Providence 

opera,  and  she  talked  about  Corots,  and  scara- 
bsei,  and  old  tapestries,  and  yachts,  and  New- 
port, and  dahabeeyahs,  and  hospitals,  and  slum 
settlements,  and  expensive  subjects  of  that 
sort;  and  she  had  on —  What  did  she  have  on? 
Somehow  I  only  remember  how  lovely  she 
looked,  and  that  I  thought  so,  and  that  I  was 
thankful  I  wasn't  supporting  her.  Why,  Henry, 
what  bait  did  you  use?  Jane  Templeton! 
Who's  her  father?  Has  she  no  mother,  no 
friends?    What  did  you  tell  him?" 

"Her  father  was  James  Templeton,  of  Tem- 
pleton &  Condit.  You  know  the  firm.  He's 
dead.  He  worked  too  hard.  Her  mother's 
dead,  too.  I  blush  to  say  that  Jane  is  an  or- 
phan, and  an  only  child,  and  lives  with  her 
aunt." 

"James  Templeton's  only  child!  You  have 
imposed  upon  that  young  woman.  She  must 
have  a  very  respectable  fortune.  Has  her  aunt 
no  control  over  her?    Has  she  no  guardian?" 

"Why,  dear  father,  what  ails  her?  It  isn't 
only  that  I  am  going  to  get  her.  She  is  going 
to  get  me.    She's  doing  well.    The  aunt  doesn't 

8  107 


The   Courtship   of   a   Careful  Man 

greatly  mind,  and,  for  that  matter,  doesn't 
greatly  count,  though  she  is  a  competent  aunt 
and  a  good  lady.  The  guardian's  responsi- 
bility ceased  two  years  ago.  There  is  a  trustee ; 
that's  all.  There  probably  is  a  good  deal  of 
money,  but  I  can't  help  it." 

"I  suppose  not.  You'll  just  have  to  live  it 
down.  But  I  had  not  at  all  foreseen  such  an 
accident,  and  you  must  excuse  me  if  I  feel  the 
shock.  The  gold-brick  stratagem  is  nothing  to 
it.    What  do  you  think  she  sees  in  you,  Henry?" 

"My  dear  dad's  likeness,  I  dare  say.  She  as 
good  as  said  so  the  night  she  dined  here." 

"A  fortune  and  a  sweet  gift  of  speech.  May- 
be I  shall  get  a  daughter  out  of  this — let  alone 
grandchildren.  We  must  make  the  best  of  it, 
but  it  grieves  me  to  think  how  much  better  she 
might  have  done!" 

"  No  such  thing,  father.  Of  course  there  has 
been  a  squad  of  walling  souls  that  she  might 
have  had,  but — oh — some  were  too  fat,  and 
some  too  rich,  and  some  too  old,  and  some  in- 
capable of  domestication,  and  most  of  them 
had  impediments  of  one  kind  or  another,  and  I 
108 


A    Disguised   Providence 

really  couldn't  see  where  she  could  do  much 
better.  And  besides,  I  told  her  that  if  she  took 
me  she  would  get  the  best  father-in-law  in  town, 
and  the  most  sympathetic  mother-in-law;  and 
that  settled  it." 

"You  are  a  very  smooth  young  man,  Henry. 
You  have  imposed  on  that  nice  girl.  But  if 
you  are  really  going  to  marry  into  affluence,  I 
am  going  to  take  your  mother  up  the  Nile  next 
winter.  I  have  put  by  nearly  enough  for  her 
and  me,  and  why  shouldn't  we  enjoy  life? 
Perhaps  your  Jane  will  give  me  a  cup  of  tea 
about  five  o'clock  to-morrow?  Yes?  I  natu- 
rally wish  to  pay  my  respects  to  so  altruistic 
a  lady.  Meet  me  there?  No,  thank  you!  If 
you  will  just  say  I'm  coming,  that  will  be 
all." 

"She  has  nice  hands,  Henry;  good,  strong, 
competent  hands." 

"I  understood  that  you  held  one  of  them." 

"I  dare  say.  Her  mind  seemed  fairly  com- 
posed so  far  as  you  were  concerned." 

"I  looked  in  myself  at  six,  and  was  glad  to 
109 


The   Courtship   of   a  Careful  Man 

find  you  had  not  unsettled  it.  Did  you  con- 
gratulate her?" 

"I  didn't  seem  to  find  words  for  that,  know- 
ing you  as  I  do,  but  I  welcomed  her.  I  had  no 
trouble  about  that." 

"She  said  you  seemed  hospitably  inclined 
towards  her.     Did  you  ask  for  a  settlement?" 

''No;  you'll  have  to  send  your  solicitor  if  you 
want  a  settlement.  I  don't  think  she  is  over- 
well  posted  on  fiscal  concerns,  anyway.  Noth- 
ing that  I  said  about  the  market  seemed  to 
take  hold  at  all.  She  got  so  far  once  as  to  say, 
'Mr.  Pel  ton  says  so  and  so.'    Who's  Mr.  Pel  ton?" 

"He's  Samuel  Pelton,  who  succeeded  his  fa- 
ther as  trustee  of  her  father's  estate.  You've 
met  him,  haven't  you?" 

"I  don't  remember  him.  The  old  man  was 
an  upright,  conservative  old  party.  Now  you 
speak  of  it,  it  seems  to  me  that  there  was  some 
gossip  about  the  son  being  caught  in  the  May 
panic,  and  rather  hard  hit.  If  that's  so,  I  trust 
he  lost  his  own  money.  I  dare  say,  Henry,  you 
may  get  some  business  out  of  that  estate." 

"  In  time,  no  doubt.  Meanwhile  the  proposi- 
110 


A   Disguised   Providence 

tion  is  for  a  wedding  after  Easter,  and  a  few 
months  abroad." 

"And  leave  a  teething  law  practice  in  charge 
of  a  trained  nurse,  I  suppose.  By  George! 
Henry,  that  '11  be  mighty  inconvenient  for  you, 
and  not  over-timely  for  me.  Well,  you  can  sell 
the  bonds  your  grandfather  left  you.  The  wash 
of  these  ample  fortunes  is  very  upsetting  to 
small  craft.  We  have  sat  on  those  poor  old 
bonds,  or  their  predecessors,  ever  since  you 
were  a  baby,  and  over  they  go  in  a  bread-cast- 
upon-the-waters  investment  that  smacks  a  lit- 
tle too  much  of  pleasure  to  be  business  and  a 
little  too  much  of  business  to  be  perfect  pleas- 
ure. But  then,  no  pleasure  is  perfect.  It's 
terribly  like  false  pretences  and  bunco,  but  I 
suppose  the  end  justifies  the  means." 

"If  you  really  think — " 

"I  don't  really  think.  I'm  not  going  to 
think,  I'm  not  going  to  meddle,  I'm  not  even 
going  to  croak  any  more.  I  threw  away  your 
leading-strings  five  years  ago.  That  nice  girl 
seems  to  have  rather  too  much  money;  much 
more  than  you  are  used  to;  rather  more,  I  judge, 
111 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

than  she  is  used  to  yet,  for  she  has  barely  come 
into  it.  But  hfe  is  full  of  perils,  and  as  between 
the  anxieties  of  dearth,  and  the  hazards  of  super- 
abundance, I  suppose  we  all  prefer  to  take  our 
chances  with  superfluity." 

A  month  later.     The  same  to  the  same. 

"Well,  father!  Have  you  read  the  evening 
papers?" 

"  Not  the  late  editions.  I  saw  the  six-o'clock 
edition  of  something  about  noon,  but  it  had  no 
news  in  it.     Anything  up?" 

"A  good  deal.  Most  interesting.  Sam  Pel- 
ton's  killed!" 

"Pel ton?    So?    Our  Jane's  trustee?" 

"Just  that." 

"Run  over  by  an  automobile?" 

"No;  safe  at  home  in  his  own  apartment  at 
the  Pelion,  just  after  noon.  They're  digging  a 
cellar  across  the  street,  and  the  noon  blast  sent 
a  five-ton  chunk  of  rock  through  Pelton's  win- 
dow and  caught  him  as  he  stood  before  the 
window  shaving.  Poor  man!  it  made  a  pancake 
of  him." 

112 


A   Disguised   Providence 

"Shocking!  Why,  Henry,  the  perils  of  this 
town  are  a^vful.  Folks  who  value  their  lives 
will  soon  be  hiring  cells  in  bomb-proof  lodging- 
houses.  How  did  Pelton  come  to  be  dressing 
so  late  in  the  morning?  Doesn't  he  go  to  his 
office?" 

"I  don't  know.  Up  late  last  night,  maybe; 
or  perhaps  he  wasn't  well.  Anyhow,  he's  done 
for,  poor  chap.  He  had  no  partner,  and  as 
Jane's  concerns  were  altogether  in  his  hands,  I 
dare  say  it  will  be  an  interesting  job  to  transfer 
them.     She  is  much  shocked,  naturally." 

"What's  to  be  done?" 

"That  is  what  she  has  been  asking  me.  Of 
course  there  will  have  to  be  an  accounting  by 
Pelton's  estate,  and  a  transfer  of  the  trust,  which 
has  a  number  of  years  to  run  yet.  I  told  her 
she  ought  to  have  first-rate  advice  at  once,  and 
we  telephoned  over  to  Judge  Holly,  and  he  is 
coming  to  see  her  to-night." 

"She  knows  the  judge,  does  she?" 

"Oh  yes;  she  has  always  known  him.  He 
knew  her  father.     I'm  going  over  there  to  din- 


113 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"  My  gracious!  Think  of  that  unlucky  Pel  ton 
flattened  out  so  in  his  own  bedroom.  Henry, 
if  you  will  go  out,  go  carefully.  Don't  fall  into 
the  subway;  avoid  cabs — you  can't  afford  them, 
and  they're  dangerous,  anyhow;  keep  your 
weather-eye  out  for  automobiles.  It's  a  couple 
of  days  since  they  killed  any  one,  and  they  must 
be  hungry.  If  you  must  ride  in  the  street-cars, 
sit  as  near  the  door  as  you  can  without  getting 
in  the  draught.  I  saw  a  street-car  burn  clean 
up  on  the  track  this  afternoon.  They  had  to 
get  the  fire  department  out  and  play  on  it; 
a  most  curious  and  highly  scandalous  sight. 
Still,  the  street-cars  with  all  their  risks  are 
safer  than  the  other  vehicles,  for  the  com- 
pany pays  for  what  it  runs  over.  Remember 
that  you  are  an  only  son,  and  the  affianced  of 
an  orphan  whose  trustee  is  dead,  and  step 
gingerly.'' 

The  fifth  week  in  lent. 

"You're  quite  a  stranger,  Henry.  You've 
dined  out  every  night  this  week.  I  only  see 
you  at  breakfast,  and  a  man  isn't  much  com- 
114 


A    Disguised   Providence 

fort  at  breakfast.  I  wish  I  had  raised  some 
girls,  but  I  always  did  wish  that.  Are  you  go- 
ing out  to-night,  son?" 

"I'm  going  over  to  dine  with  Jane.  There 
are  matters  of  moment  to  be  discussed." 

"No  doubt,  and  your  impending  marriage 
only  a  fortnight  off." 

"Judge  Holly  sent  for  me  this  afternoon." 

"And  how  was  the  judge?" 

"A  good  deal  flustered,  and  he  had  a  good 
deal  to  say." 

"Ah?" 

"Yes;  since  his  appointment  a  week  ago  as 
Jane's  trustee  in  Pelton's  place,  he  has  been 
forgathering  with  Pelton's  administrator,  and 
they  have  got  the  seals  off  Pelton's  books  and 
various  receptacles,  and  have  been  trying  to 
find  Jane's  estate." 

"Well,  didn't  Pelton  keep  his  accounts 
straight?" 

"Yes;  there's  plenty  of  accounts.  His  clerks 
did  that.  The  accounts  are  satisfactory.  The 
trouble  is  with  the  securities.  They  couldn't 
find  them." 

115 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Wasn't  there  a  list  of  them?" 

"Oh  yes;  they  found  the  Ust.  The  Ust  is 
splendid;  most  exemplary.  But  they  haven't 
got  the  securities." 

"Where  did  Pel  ton  keep  them?" 

"  He  had  a  big  safe-deposit  box.  They  have 
found  that  and  opened  it.  The  box  is  safe, 
but  it  was  empty." 

"Had  Pelton  pledged  them?" 

"That's  it.  There  were  a  lot  of  bonds  that 
they  haven't  run  down  yet,  but  they  have 
traced  stocks  enough  through  the  transfer- 
books  of  various  railways  to  get  a  pretty  clear 
idea  of  what  has  happened.  As  trustee,  Pelton 
had  complete  power.  He  evidently  went  into 
a  big  gamble  in  the  spring,  pledged  a  lot  of 
Jane's  papers,  was  caught  in  the  May  crush, 
and  sold  out.  He  bet  what  was  left  in  an  effort 
to  get  even,  and  the  corn  failure  and  the  steel 
strike  finished  him.  No  wonder  he  kept  away 
from  his  office!  He  was  done.  There  is  some 
real  estate,  and  on  that  he  has  managed  to  raise 
enough  to  pay  Jane  her  income.  It  was  Heav- 
en's mercy  to  him  that  that  rock  came  through 
116 


A   Disguised   Providence 

his  window  before  the  bigger  one  that  hung  over 
him  had  time  to  drop." 

"Is  there  nothing  left?" 

"Certainly  nothing  compared  with  what  is 
gone.  The  judge  says  there  is  the  house,  and 
some  other  real  estate  that  is  valuable.  None 
of  it  is  clear,  but  the  blast  that  cut  Pelton  off 
before  he  was  quite  ready  seems  to  have  saved 
Jane  some  equities  and  other  remnants  that 
are  worth  something." 

"  But  you  don' t  know  what  they  are 
worth?" 

"No;  the  tangle  is  too  bad,  the  judge  says, 
for  any  estimate  to  be  worth  anything  yet. 
There  is  no  record  of  what  Pelton  did.  Some 
mortgages  are  recorded;  there  may  be  others 
that  are  not." 

"Does  Jane  know  it?" 

"Not  yet.  The  question  is,  who  is  to  tell 
her,  and  when?  Am  I  to  tell  her  to-night? 
The  invitations  are  out  to  her  wedding.  Must 
it  be  put  off?  The  only  thing  I  have  done  yet 
is  to  give  up  my  steamer  rooms.  We  can't  go 
abroad,  anyhow." 

117 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Henry,  this  is  getting  too  complicated  for 
you  and  me.  Ask  for  some  tea,  and  see  if  your 
mother  has  come  in  yet.  I  think  I  heard  her. 
Here  she  is.  Come,  Fanny,  and  have  some 
tea.  Henry's  got  a  tale.  The  bark  that  car- 
ries his  hopes  is  aground,  and  seems  stove 
in.  We  need  help  to  get  her  off.  Tell  her, 
Henry. '^ 

"The  short  of  it  is,  mother,  that  our  Jane 
has  gone  broke,  and  doesn't  know  it  yet.  Her 
trustee  had  stolen  pretty  much  all  her  for- 
tune." 

"Mercy!'' 

"And  the  question  is,  Fanny,  whether  the 
wedding  can  go  on,  and  whether  Jane  shall  be 
told  this  tale  of  disaster  before  or  after  it." 

"Is  it  really  true,  Charles?" 

"Strictly,  absolutely  true.  At  least,  so 
Henry  says." 

"Then  of  course  she  must  know  it.  She 
may  not  want  Henry  if  she  has  lost  her 
money." 

"There,  Henry;  that's  a  consideration.  Jane 
may  feel  that  you  are  a  luxury  beyond  her 
118 


A   Disguised    Providence 

present  means.  She  may  feel  constrained  to 
marry  a  richer  man  now.  You'll  have  to  tell 
her.  If  you  don't,  Judge  Holly  will.  He's 
bound  to.  But,  Fanny,  how  about  putting  the 
wedding  off?" 

"That's  for  Jane  to  say.  It's  bad  luck  to 
put  off  weddings.  I  hope  she  won't.  She's 
got  her  gown,  and  I've  got  mine,  and  I  don't 
want  to  see  either  of  them  put  away  to  get  out 
of  fashion.     Then  there  are  her  presents." 

"But,  Fanny,  Henry's  only  earning —  How 
much  was  it  last  month,  Henry?" 

"A  hundred  and  thirty,  father,  but  really 
the  practice  is  picking  up." 

"If  Henry  can't  support  her,  Charles,  you've 
got  to.  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  Hen- 
ry except  that  he's  a  beginner.  Starting  out  to 
marry  a  poor  girl  on  a  very  small  income  is  one 
thing.  This  is  a  different  case  entirely.  Jane 
is  a  dear  girl,  and  will  make  the  loveliest  bride 
you  ever  saw.  I'll  share  anything  you've  got 
with  her." 

"Very  well,  Fanny,  but  we  won't  be  able  to 
go  up  the  Nile — not  this  year." 
119 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"The  Nile  will  keep.  The  frocks  won't. 
Karnak  will  be  just  as  good  style  ten  years  from 
now  as  it  is  to-day." 

"How  do,  Henry?  Good  man  to  have  come 
early.     Come  and  see  the  new  presents." 

"More?" 

"Oh  yes,  lots  more  to-day.  Some  beautiful 
ones.'* 

"Where's  the  good  aunt?" 

"Not  down  yet.  Here  they  are.  Look  at 
these  topazes.     Aren't  they  lovely?" 

"Put  them  on.  There,  now  they  are  lovely. 
Are  they  real?" 

"Surely.     Look  who  sent  them!" 

"With  the  love  of  the  Jarvises,  eh?  Oh  yes, 
I  guess  they're  real.  And  you  too,  Jane.  You 
are  real,  too — a  real  person,  who  won't  vanish 
into  thin  air  when  the  clock  strikes  twelve  and 
the  fairy  palace  crumbles?" 

"la  real  person?  Yes,  Henry.  Why  not? 
Henry!  What's  got  into  your  voice?  Let  me 
look  at  you!    Why  did  you  say  that?" 

"Jane  Hawkshaw,  the  detective  and  mind- 
120 


A   Disguised    Providence 

reader!  Look  hard,  Jane.  Look  deep.  What 
do  you  see?" 

"  Nothing  but  what  I  love,  dear.  And  yet — 
What's  happened,  Henry?  Have  you  brought 
some  news?" 

"Yes!" 

"And  not  good  news?" 

"No,  not  exactly.  Disconcerting  sort  of 
news,  but  not  killing.  The  late  Pelton  stole  a 
lot  of  your  money,  dear  Jane.  That's  my  news. 
There  may  be  some  left,  but  I  fear  not  very 
much.  It  looks  just  now  as  though  he  had 
made  a  pretty  clean  sweep." 

"How  do  you  know  about  it,  Henry?" 

"I  got  it  from  Judge  Holly  this  afternoon. 
I  dare  say  he'll  be  here  soon  himself;  this 
evening,  perhaps.  He's  very  low-spirited  over 
it." 

"But  I  had  my  income  up  to  a  month  ago. 
How  could  it  all  go  at  once?" 

"The  judge  will  tell  you.  I  fear  you  won't 
get  any  more  income  from  your  own  estate  for 
some  time  to  come.  Have  you  got  some  money 
in  the  bank?" 

121 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"Some;  not  a  great  deal.  What  does  it  all 
mean  to  me?" 

"It  means  a  great  deal.  It  means  being 
rather  a  poor  woman  instead  of  a  rich  one.  It 
means  living  in  a  small  house  instead  of  a  big 
one,  thinking  what  you  can  afford  instead  of 
what  you  want,  going  without  quantities  of 
things  you  have  been  used  to  having.  It  means 
all  sorts  of  superficial  changes,  and  it  makes  a 
poor  man  a  worse  match  for  you  than  he  was 
before." 

"But  that's  not  all,  Henry.     That's  not  all!" 
"That's  enough.    We  can't  unpack  the  whole 
of  Pandora's  box  before  dinner." 

"Yes,  but,  Henry.  It  makes  me  a  much 
worse  match  for  a  poor  man  than  I  was  be- 
fore." 

"Do  you  think  you  can  do  better,  Jane?" 
"I  am  sure  you  could  do  better,  Henry!" 
"  Oh,  you  flatter  me.  I  don't  think  it.  Who'd 
have  me  but  you?  Who'd  take  me  second- 
hand? And  if  any  one  would  have  me,  do  you 
think  I'm  going  to  let  the  labor  of  years  come 
to  nothing,  and  go  to  work  and  court  some  new 

122 


A   Disguised   Providence 

girl?  Money's  handy,  dear  Jane,  but  no  par- 
ticular lot  of  it  is  essential." 

"N-no,  Henry.  But  I  had  planned  such 
pleasant  uses  for  it,  and  I  had  hoped  to  do  so 
many  things  for  you.  Besides,  dear  Henry, 
what  are  we  to  live  on?" 

"  I  hope  there'll  be  salvage  enough  from  your 
wreck  to  keep  you  from  want,  but,  anyhow,  it's 
for  me  to  find  means  of  support  for  both  of  us, 
and  I  have  found  them  already." 

"Where,  Henry?" 

"Chiefly  at  home,  in  the  second-story  front 
room,  sitting  in  front  of  a  wood  fire,  taking  tea 
with  mother.    Also,  in  an  office  down-town." 

"Your  father!" 

"Yes,  Jane.  Father  and  I.  As  for  father, 
dear  man,  he's  used  to  it.  He  has  supported 
most  of  me  these  many  years.  Don't  pity  him. 
He  likes  it.  It  won't  be  for  long,  for  I  expect 
to  be  a  prodigious  wage-earner  right  away. 
Mother  says,  'Oh,  don't  put  off  the  wedding!' 
Cheer  up,  Jane.  Set  a  storm-sail  and  head  for 
port.  And  oh,  don't  throw  me  over!  After 
all  the  ballast  you've  lost  you  can't  spare  an- 

9  123 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

other  pound;  and  oh,  dear  Jane,  I  would  hate 
it  so!" 

"You  absurd  Henry,  you  make  me  laugh. 
Here  comes  Aunt  Felicia.  Don't  tell  her  yet. 
And  here's  William  to  say  dinner's  ready. 
William,  please  send  word  to  Judge  Holly 
that  if  he  can  come  in  this  evening  I  should 
like  to  see  him.  And  say  Mr.  Warden  is 
here.'^ 

Ten  days  later. 

"How  goes  the  inquest,  Henry?'' 
"Pretty  well,  father.    There's  going  to  be 
something  left." 

"Wasn't  Pelton  quite  thorough?" 
"Oh,  he  did  his  best.  The  quick  assets  are 
cleaned  out  absolutely.  Everything  that  had 
gilt  on  its  edge  is  gone,  but,  as  I  told  you,  there 
are  some  equities,  and  we  have  found  a  boxful 
of  the  old  man's  bad  investments  that  Pelton 
never  meddled  with  much.  There's  a  collection 
of  deeds  to  Western  and  Southern  lands  in  half 
a  dozen  different  states  that  must  have  looked 
like  waste  paper  ten  years  ago,  but  the  judge 
124 


A   Disguised   Providence 

thinks    they    make    interesting    reading    now. 
Father,  I'm  going  to  move  my  office!" 

"So?" 

"Yes;  the  judge  says  Jane's  matters  are  go- 
ing to  be  a  long  job,  and  that  anyway  there's 
room  on  his  office  door  for  another  name,  and 
that  mine  will  look  as  well  there  as  anywhere 
else." 

"Great  news!  You'll  get  your  office  rent 
paid,  anyhow." 

"Much  better  than  that.  He  was  able  to 
demonstrate  that  there  is  several  times  as  much 
present  income  waiting  for  me  in  his  office  as  I 
have  been  able  to  find  so  far  in  my  own,  and  he 
talked  hopefully  about  the  future.  He  is  a 
very  pretty  speaker,  the  judge  is,  when  he  has 
a  mind  to  talk." 

"There's  no  better  office  in  town.  You'll 
make  a  living  yet.  It's  no  very  great  trick  for 
a  well-equipped  man,  if  you  once  get  started. 
A  little  knowledge,  a  Httle  talent,  a  little  gump- 
tion, all  the  character  you've  got,  and  a  day's 
work  every  day.  The  rest  is  a  matter  of  oppor- 
tunity, and  that  comes." 
125 


The  Cottrtship  of  a  Carcftil  Man 

And  so  they  were  married,  and  the  wedding 
was  no  less  Hvely  than  weddings  ought  to  be, 
and  the  newspapers  told  all  about  it,  and,  as 
usual,  somewhat  more;  and  some  of  them,  dis- 
tressing but  inevitable  to  tell,  printed  the  bride's 
picture,  besides  making  generous  estimates  of 
the  value  of  the  gifts.  Every  one  knew  that 
the  bride  was  no  longer  an  heiress  of  distinction, 
and  everybody  talked  about  it  in  private  and 
ignored  it  in  public.  Everybody  sympathized 
with  her,  and  some  persons  pitied  her,  but  many 
who  were  quite  ready  with  pity,  and  even  car- 
ried a  supply  of  it  with  them  to  the  wedding, 
were  constrained  to  the  conclusion  that  they 
had  brought  it  to  the  wrong  market.  Some- 
how it  wasn't  that  kind  of  a  w^edding,  for,  though 
it  was  fairly  tearful  at  the  church,  and  a  good 
many  women  made  furtive  dabs  with  their  hand- 
kerchiefs at  their  eyes  and  noses,  and  some  elder- 
ly gentlemen  snuffled, Major  Brace,  who  was  pres- 
ent, declared  that  he  never  was  at  a  wedding 
which  was  less  qualified  by  misgivings,  or  where 
the  atmosphere  was  so  heavily  charged  with 
affection  and  good-will.  "We  sunk  the  shop 
126 


A   Disguised  Providence 

for  the  whole  of  two  hours,"  said  the  major. 
"It  was  Hke  real  old  times,"  and  the  intrepid 
man  snuffled  again  and  called  for  a  cocktail, 
though  it  was  barely  five  o'clock. 

"  Well,  Charles,  do  you  still  expect  to  see  the 
pyramids?" 

"Give  me  time,  Fanny,  a  little  time.  I'm 
not  sixty  yet,  and  there's  lots  of  work  in  me. 
We'll  see  the  pyramids  at  our  leisure.  Let  them 
wait.  I'd  rather  see  my  grandchildren  than 
the  pyramids  any  day.  I'm  glad  you  didn't 
put  that  wedding  off.  What's  the  use  of  having 
an  only  son  if  you  can't  spoil  him?" 


Josephine 


Josephine 


HERE  is  uneasiness  in  my 
mind  about  Josephine  be- 
cause she  has  no  job.  She 
is  rising  twenty-five,  sound 
— reasonably  sound — I  have 
seen  girls  who  ate  up  their 
breakfast  better — combines  dark  hair  with  Sax- 
on eyes,  is  kind,  gentle,  and  well  broken,  goes 
remarkably  well  in  single  harness,  and  is  not 
afraid  of  the  cars  nor  much  afraid  of  auto- 
mobiles. I  don't  think  she  is  enough  afraid  of 
autos.  She  has  been  out  with  young  Kimberly 
in  his,  and  also  with  the  Blakes,  and  is  begin- 
ning to  concern  herself  about  automobile  mil- 
linery, which  is  a  vanity,  and  prone  to  develop 
into  grave  expenditure.  Besides,  I  don't  seem 
to  care  especially  for  Kimberly,  and  her  divaga- 
131 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

tions  with  the  Blakes  simply  take  up  her  time 
and  lead  to  nothing.  Nothing  that  Josephine 
concerns  herself  with  seems  to  lead  to  anything; 
and  when  anything  seems  to  have  in  it  reason- 
able possibilities  of  arrival  she  always  shies  and 
scampers  by  it.  I  have  a  feeling  that  she  ought 
either  to  take  a  definite  line  of  her  own  that 
promises  to  bring  her  out  somewhere,  or  else 
that  she  should  pay  more  attention  to  the  pos- 
sibilities of  pairing  off.  She  does  neither,  but 
goes  on  as  before,  looks  handsome,  is  usually 
late  to  breakfast,  gets  herself  good  clothes  for 
comparatively  little  money,  pays  visits,  is  kind 
to  the  children,  makes  a  great  deal  of  sprightly 
discourse,  and  so  disposes  her  energies  that 
every  one  in  the  house  grumbles  when  she  goes 
away,  and  feels  a  great  deal  better  when  she 
comes  home  again.  She  weighs  on  my  con- 
science. There  she  is,  growing  a  day  older 
every  twenty-four  hours  and  not  bettering  her- 
self; and  she  such  a  likely  girl,  and  in  such  active 
demand! 

When  she  got  out  of  school,  I  was  for  having 
her  perfect  herself  in  some  definite  employment 
132 


Josephine 

— stenography  and  type-writing,  or  bookbind- 
ing, or  even  teaching — and  at  that  time  she  could 
actually  have  got  a  job  to  teach  the  younger 
girls  in  the  school  she  was  leaving.  But  Cas- 
sandra (that  is  her  mother's  name;  she's  my 
cousin-in-law)  said,  "Oh  no;  don't  pin  her  down 
to  any  occupation  yet;  let  her  see  the  world." 
So  out  she  went  into  the  pasture;  plenty  of 
grass  and  nothing  to  do,  except  to  trot  around 
the  ring  now  and  then  on  exhibition  days,  which 
she  did  with  good-will  and  a  fine  show  of  spirits. 
I  have  consulted  Saunders,  the  school-master, 
about  her  teaching  school.  "Must  she?"  he 
asked.  I  admitted  that  there  was  no  urgent 
bread-and-butter  need  of  it  as  yet,  but  wouldn't 
it  be  praiseworthy  and  wholesome?  He  de- 
murred. His  is  a  girls'  school,  and  he  knows 
something  about  fitting  girls  to  make  a  living. 
Too  many  girls  had  to,  he  said.  And  then,  do 
you  know,  he  disparaged  all  my  purposes  about 
Josephine,  pooh-poohed  my  misgivings,  and 
talked  about  the  need  of  saving  some  of  the 
fine  girls  who  were  extra-illustrated  and  other- 
wise interesting,  to  pursue  the  vitally  impor- 
133 


The   Cotirtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

tant  business  of  making  life  pleasant.  "  I'll  take 
her  gladly/'  said  Saunders.  "She'd  be  ever  so 
pleasant  in  the  school;  but  don't  let  her  come. 
There  are  other  Macedonias  that  need  her  help 
more." 

She  isn't  mine,  anyhow.  She  has  a  full  set 
of  parents.  My  cousin  Alexis  is  living — yes, 
very  much.  But  he  is  much  more  engrossed  in 
making  a  living  than  I  am,  and  I  know  more 
about  girls  and  their  obligations  to  society  than 
he  does.  He  doesn't  seem  to  care  a  hang  about 
their  obligations  to  society,  nor  overmuch  about 
their  futures.  He  has  boys  in  his  family,  and  I 
suppose  planning  remunerative  futures  for  his 
boys  takes  all  the  strategical  ability  he  can 
spare  from  his  immediate  business.  Never 
mind.  I  am  going  to  do  something  for  Jose- 
phine myself. 

She  fools  away  too  much  time  on  ineligibles 
and  men  whom  there  is  no  chance  of  her  want- 
ing— elderly  married  men,  especially.  The  fa- 
tuity of  it!  The  perversity!  I  dare  say  it  is 
restful  to  a  girl  whose  cousin  is  trying  to  marry 
her  off  to  know  a  few  responsible,  agreeable, 
134 


Josephine 

unmarriageable  old  creatures  who  won't  be  set- 
ting traps  for  her.  But  I  remonstrate  with  her 
about  wasting  her  sweetness  on  such  persons. 
Of  course  they  are  attractive,  with  their  records 
and  perfectly  formed  manners  and  all  that,  but 
— "My  gracious,  Josephine,"  says  I,  "don't  set 
your  heart  on  getting  a  ready-made  man,  bitted 
and  bridle-wise  and  all  that!  For  shame! 
Think  of  the  labor  it  has  cost  those  old  creatures' 
wives  to  bring  them  to  such  a  stage  of  amenity 
and  discipline!  Go  catch  a  colt  and  train  him 
for  yourself,  and  have  something  that  you  can 
really  call  your  own." 

Well,  I'm  making  a  dinner-party  for  her,  and 
asking  Henry  Hawkins  and  Gresham  Clinton. 
At  least  she  shall  inspect  the  ranks. 

It  was  a  nice  dinner.  Gertrude  took  an  in- 
terest, and  when  she  really  takes  an  interest  her 
dinners  do  very  well.  Gertrude — she's  not  the 
cook,  by-the-way;  she's  my  wife;  and  it  was 
rather  amiable  of  her  to  take  hold  so  heartily; 
for  though  she  likes  Josephine,  she  does  not 
share  my  solicitude  about  her  future.    We  had 

135 


The  Cotirtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

two  other  girls  to  dine,  Mary  Watkins  and  Alice 
Blake.  I  suppose  that  was  a  mistake.  One 
other  girl  would  have  been  better — not  too 
handsome  and  not  too  bright.  But  I  should 
have  had  to  talk  to  her;  and  self-sacrifice^ 
even  in  a  cousin,  may  be  overdone.  Molly 
Watkins  is  no  trouble  to  talk  to;  and,  anyhow, 
Josephine  can  hold  her  own  in  any  company, 
and  better  in  good  company  than  dull.  There 
is  something  in  shining  by  contrast,  but  you 
get  a  higher  candle-power  by  competition.  Dick 
Lee  was  the  other  man.  I  didn't  ask  him  on 
grounds  of  eligibility,  but  merely  because  he 
fitted  in.  He  doesn't  seem  to  get  down  to 
serious  and  remunerative  business  very  fast, 
though  he  is  an  able  fellow,  and,  I  suppose,  an 
able  architect,  as  well  as  agreeable  in  discourse. 
Clinton,  it  seems,  arranged  with  Jo  to  drive 
with  him  on  his  brake  in  the  park  on  Thursday, 
and  threatens  to  teach  her  to  drive  a  four-in- 
hand.  She  is  going  to  the  country  with  Haw- 
kins and  his  sister  in  his  new  devil-wagon  Fri- 
day or  Saturday,  and  I  think  there  was  a  plan 
for  Lee  to  show  her  the  new  cathedral — which 
136 


Josephine 

seemed  unnecessary,  as  any  one  can  go  up  there 
and  see  what  there  is  of  it  without  any  showing. 
Gertrude  wanted  to  know  why  I  asked  Haw- 
kins, and  professed  not  to  see  so  very  much  in 
him.  He  sat  next  to  her.  I  explained  to  her 
about  his  quahfications,  real  and  personal,  in- 
cluding easements  and  hereditaments.  She  ad- 
mitted that  there  was  more  in  him  than  she 
supposed.  She  wanted  to  know  where  Clinton 
got  his  hands.  She  has  known  Clinton  for  ten 
years,  and  never  made  any  comment  about  his 
hands  before.  I  wonder  what  ails  them,  if  any- 
thing? I  told  her  they  came  down  to  him  with 
the  rest  of  his  effects.  If  he  got  them  from  his 
grandfather,  they  are  likely  to  be  useful  to  him 
in  helping  himself  to  what  he  wants  and  hold- 
ing on  to  it. 

Cassandra  has  been  questioning  me  about 
Clinton.  I  had  to  tell  all  I  knew — pedigree, 
record,  habits,  disposition— and  I  don't  know 
why,  except  that  Clinton  had  stopped  in  to 
afternoon  tea  the  day  before,  and  got  asked  to 
come  back  the  next  night  to  dinner.  I  believe 
137 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

some  of  them  went  with  him  to  the  theatre. 
She  wanted  to  know  almost  as  much  about 
Harry  Hawkins.  It  seems  he  has  a  saddle-mare 
that  he  wants  Josephine  to  try.  Had  I  known 
him  long?  His  mother  was  a  Simmons.  What 
Simmons?  Was  it  true  that  he  was  born  in 
Chicago?  Was  it  true  that  he  had  race-horses? 
What  church  did  he  go  to?  What  church  would 
he  be  apt  to  go  to  if  he  went?  Did  I  like  him? 
Had  his  father  and  mother  lived  happily  to- 
gether? What  was  his  step-mother  like?  My 
replies  were  based  on  information  and  belief, 
pieced  out  with  surmise.  I  hope  they  were 
satisfactory,  though  I  was  stumped  to  give  his 
step-mother  a  character,  as  she  has  lived  in 
Paris  since  his  father's  death. 

To-day  I  met  Aunt  Emily  Doddridge  at  Tick- 
good's  bookstore,  and  she  asked  me  to  ride  up 
to  the  park  with  her  in  her  victoria.  She  also 
wished  to  inquire.  She  had  heard  there  were 
two  young  men  who  seemed  interested  in  Jose- 
phine, and  that  they  were  friends  of  mine. 
Were  they  good  young  men,  and  did  I  think 
138 


Josephine 

their  attentions  were  serious?  I  replied  that, 
so  far  as  I  knew,  no  young  men  were  good — 
certainly  none  so  good  that  there  was  not  room 
for  Josephine  to  improve  them  if  she  cared  to 
undertake  the  work.  As  for  Clinton  and  Haw- 
kins, they  were  solvent,  anyhow,  and  if  Jose- 
phine cared  to  experiment  with  either  of  them, 
there  would  be  enough  available  capital  to  in- 
sure that  the  experiment  would  be  conducted 
under  reasonably  favorable  conditions.  That 
was  all.  Beyond  that  they  seemed  sound  as 
yet  in  wind  and  limb,  and  passed  for  reputable 
citizens,  and  there  were  no  judgments  out 
against  them,  and  their  credit,  socially  and 
fiscally,  seemed  excellent.  I  knew  no  more 
about  them  than  everybody  knew  who  knew 
them  as  well  as  I  did,  and  that  was  no  more 
than  intelligent  observation  would  yield  to  any 
one. 

Aunt  Emily  excused  herself  for  inquiring  so 
explicitly,  but  explained  that  she  depended  a 
great  deal  on  Josephine,  who  was  the  light  of 
her  eyes — which  now  required  glasses — and 
though  she  would  not  put  so  much  as  a  splinter 

lo  139 


The   Cottrtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

in  the  way  of  her  marrying  if  she  saw  fit,  she 
really  would  not  know  how  to  get  on  without 
her.  Her  house  at  Bar  Harbor,  Aunt  Emily- 
maintained,  would  be  a  mere  receiving-vault 
without  Jo,  and  she  doubted  if  she  would  have 
the  courage  to  open  it  next  summer  if  she  must 
live  in  it  alone.  And  as  for  the  winter — well, 
there  was  no  use  of  going  too  far  into  particulars, 
but  she  confessed  in  confidence  that  she  had 
hoped  that  if  Josephine  did  marry,  she  would 
marry  some  thoroughly  desirable  poor  young 
man,  who  would  need  help  in  supporting  her, 
especially  in  the  summer.  Now,  did  I  think 
she  was  likely  to  take  up  with  a  rich  man,  who 
would  want  to  own  her,  soul,  body,  and  boots, 
and  monopolize  all  her  time?  because,  if  I  did, 
it  was  time  for  Jo's  aunt  Emily  to  have  some 
shrubs  set  out  in  her  lot  in  the  cemetery  at 
Guildfield,  and  try  to  make  her  long  home  more 
attractive. 

Now  Aunt  Emily  is  a  dear  lady,  and  fond  of 
sport,  and  I  am  fond  of  her.  She  worked  upon 
my  feelings  so  that  by  the  time  we  reached  the 
park  I  could  hardly  command  my  voice.     I  fell 

140 


Josephine 

to  with  both  hands  and  reassured  her,  protest- 
ing that  there  was  no  immediate  fear  of  her 
losing  Jo;  that  Hawkins  and  Clinton  were  mere- 
ly two  fat  pleasure-seekers  who  liked  charming 
and  amusing  girls,  much  as  Aunt  Emily  herself 
did,  but  were  much  too  timid  and  old  and  sel- 
fish and  prudent  to  want  to  marry  anybody. 
They  wouldn't  marry,  I  told  her,  until  they  had 
tried  everything  else  and  got  tired  of  it,  and 
that  wouldn't  happen  for  another  ten  years, 
since  they  had  just  begun  with  autos,  and  had 
not  yet  tried  air-ships.  Josephine  was  much 
too  good  for  either  of  them,  and  was  doubtless 
aware  of  it,  but,  having  time  on  her  hands,  and 
an  accommodating  nature,  was  not  averse  to 
playing  with  them  so  long  as  they  continued  to 
be  diverting.  Selecting  a  husband,  I  said, 
usually  involved  a  process  of  elimination,  and 
it  seemed  to  be  important  that  an  attractive 
girl  like  Jo  should  not  lack  fit  and  various  ma- 
terial to  eliminate.  Of  course  a  woman  who 
selects  a  husband  out  of  a  theoretically  possible 
fifty  thinks  he  is  the  pick  of  the  lot,  and  values 
him  the  more  for  being  so  (though  he  never  is) ; 

141 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

and  so  it  had  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  sort  of  service 
to  Josephine  to  supply  her  duly  and  betimes  with 
convenient  means  of  comparison,  to  enable  her, 
if  ever  her  heart  should  go  out  to  a  truly  desir- 
able man,  to  appreciate  how  good  he  was  and 
take  him. 

I  think  that  by  the  time  Aunt  Emily  dropped 
me  out  on  the  corner  by  the  club  on  her  way 
home,  she  felt  considerably  happier,  but  I  was 
a  good  deal  prostrated;  and  meeting  Clinton  in 
the  club,  I  had  one  with  him;  and  when  Haw- 
kins came  in  and  also  asked  me,  I  had  another 
with  him,  which  was  one  more  than  my  habit 
calls  for,  and  the  one  they  had  with  me  made 
three.  They  are  still  kindly  disposed  towards 
me,  anyhow,  which  they  might  not  be  if  they 
had  heard  my  conversation  with  Aunt  Emily. 

While  I  was  getting  lunch  to-day  down  in  the 
subcellar  of  the  Adjustable  Building — and  of 
all  the  bad  lunch-places,  that  is  the  most  odd, 
and  of  all  eating  habits,  the  habit  of  eating  there 
is  the  most  inexplicable — Alexis  came  in  and 
sat  down  in  the  vacant  seat  at  my  little  table. 

142 


Josephine 

He  looked  over  the  programme  of  food,  groaned, 

aPxd  ordered  lamb -stew,   on  the  principle  of 

wanting  to  know  the  worst. 

"Robert,"  said  he,  "who's  that  young  Lee 

who  comes  to  om*  house,  and  makes  himself  so 

agreeable?" 

"I  dun'no',"  said  I.     "He  isn't  mine." 

"  Well,  Jo  met  him  at  your  house,  didn't  she?" 

"He  dined  there  one  night  when  she  did.     I 

ought  to  have  fenced  him  off,  I  suppose,  but  I 

couldn't.     But  I  deny  all  responsibility.     He's 

just  a  man  whom  Josephine  met." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  with  him?    He's 

a  good  fellow,  isn't  he?" 

"Lovely,  I  guess.     I  don't  know." 

"How  long  have  you  known  him?" 

"About  fifteen  years." 

"Where's  his  family?" 

"In  Baltimore." 

"Reputable  people,  aren't  they?" 

"Those  that  are  Lees  are  Lees,  and  usually 

Carrolls   and   Custises   on   the   mother's   side. 

At  least  I  think  so.     Try  the  Social  Regulator. 

Why?" 

143 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

"That  wasn't  the  Une  of  information  I  was 
after.  I  just  wondered  if  he  was  straight  and 
could  make  a  hving." 

"I  think  he  makes  his  own,  though  I'm  not 
sure.  He's  an  architect.  I  never  knew  much 
about  architects,  but  some  of  them  make  Uv- 
ings;  so  do  some  painters.  I  don't  know  how, 
but  they  do.  I've  seen  them  have  money.  I'll 
inquire  about  Lee's  business,  if  you  want  me  to.'' 

"Oh  no;  my  interest  in  him  is  not  so  exacting 
as  that.  I  just  wondered;  that's  all;  because 
Jo  seems  to  find  him  agreeable.  So  do  I.  He 
is  agreeable,  darn  him!  and  a  good  fellow,  I 
judge.  But  why  borrow  trouble ?  Stocks  seem 
stronger  again  to  -  day.  Amalgamated's  got 
quite  a  head  of  steam  on.  Well,  I'm  glad  I'm 
not  fooling  with  the  Street  just  now." 

Lee  too;  that's  almost  too  much.  They 
sha'n't  lay  him  to  me,  anyhow.  He  was  pure 
accident.  Just  to  satisfy  my  own  curiosity  I'll 
ask  Corbin  if  Lee  can  make  a  living,  but  I  sha'n't 
tell  Alexis.  Let  him  find  out  for  himself.  But 
Josephine?  Oh,  I've  done  my  best  and  con- 
siderably more  for  Josephine.  I  leave  her  in 
144 


Josephine 

the  LorcFs  hands,  and  if  she  should  marry  poor 
it  will  suit  Aunt  Emily,  anyway. 

When  I  came  into  the  long  room  of  the  club 
this  afternoon,  Clinton  went  out  the  other  door. 
I  spoke  to  Robinson  and  Brown,  and  then  went 
to  look  for  him,  but  he  had  left  the  club.  My 
impression  was  that  he  avoided  me.  I  hope 
not.  Hawkins  was  there.  He  w^as  in  good 
spirits,  and  we  played  cowboy  pool,  and  before 
I  went  home  I  made  a  bridge  engagement  with 
him.    He  said  he'd  get  Clinton  and  some  one  else. 

Played  bridge  with  Hawkins.  He  said  Clin- 
ton couldn't  come.  Clinton  seemed  out  of  sorts, 
he  thought,  and  talked  of  going  abroad  on 
Saturday.  Hatfield  and  Gibbons  were  there. 
Bridge  is  a  good  deal  calumniated  as  a  game  of 
mischance,  but  it  does  eat  up  time.  I  had  to 
play,  though.  I  cling  to  Hawkins,  and  could 
not  refuse  him. 

I  understand  Hawkins  has  gone  to  Japan.    I 
did  not  see  him  before  he  went.     Hatfield  saw 
him.     Hatfield  says  he  meant  to  stop  in  Manila 
145 


The  Courtship  of  a  Carcftil  Man 

and  look  about,  and  come  home  by  way  of  Suez 
at  his  leisure,  stopping  possibly  in  Constanti- 
nople and  those  parts,  if  the  rumpus  now  threat- 
ening thereabouts  matured.  He  expressed  sat- 
isfaction in  being  foot-loose,  and  said  he  might 
change  his  plans  and  try  the  Siberian  Railroad. 
Hatfield  said  he  sniffed  battle  in  the  Balkans 
afar  off,  like  a  prudent  old  war-horse  who  pur- 
posed to  get  there  by  the  long  way,  and  view 
the  sport,  if  there  was  any,  from  a  safe  distance. 
I  suspect  that  Hawkins  became  conscious  of 
danger  at  home,  and  ran  away  like  a  wise  man 
While  he  could.  Clinton's  retreat  doubtless  had 
its  effect  on  him.  Bully  for  old  Hawkins!  He 
won't  lay  anything  up  against  me,  anyhow. 
But  he  might  have  said  good-bye.  Maybe  he 
daren't  wait. 

Josephine  dined  with  us  to-night.  I  told  the 
maid  to  put  the  chain  on  the  door,  and  not  to 
let  any  man  into  the  house.  She  dined  just 
with  Gertrude  and  me  and  the  children.  "  That's 
what  I  like  best,"  said  Josephine;  "just  you  and 
Cousin  Gertrude  and  the  children,  and  nobody 
146 


Josephine 

else."  Well,  she  was  delightful;  my  little  girls 
held  her  hands  till  they  went  to  bed,  and  she 
did  me  good,  till  my  affection  for  her  came  back 
almost  in  full  force.  I  asked  whether  it  was 
she  who  had  driven  Clinton  out  of  town.  Not 
she.  No,  indeed.  Had  Mr.  Clinton  really  gone 
abroad?  What  took  him  there,  and  so  sud- 
denly? She  felt  quite  lost  without  him;  he 
and  Mr.  Hawkins  had  done  lots  of  pleasant 
things  for  her,  quite  on  my  account,  she  was 
sure,  and  she  felt  deeply  indebted  to  me  for 
putting  her  in  their  way.  I  asked  her  to  credit 
it  to  my  account,  and  assured  her  that  they 
were  both  quite  crazy  about  me,  and  would  do 
anything  for  any  girl  I  pointed  out.  Did  I  know 
where  Mr.  Hawkins  was?  She  had  heard  of 
his  being  seen  in  Chicago.  I  had  heard  that  he 
had  gone  West.  I  asked  her  if  Gertrude's 
friend  Lee  was  courting  her,  and  she  said  no; 
that  she  understood  he  was  deeply  smitten  with 
Eleanor  Gay;  but  she  said  she  saw  him  now  and 
then,  and  found  him  agreeable  and  informing, 
and  she  thanked  Gertrude  for  the  advantage  of 
his  acquaintance. 

147 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

Let  her  have  Lee  if  she  Ukes.  I  asked  Corbin 
about  him,  but  I  sha'n't  meddle.  But  I  don't 
think  she'll  take  him  yet  a  while.  I  believe 
she's  just  a  pleasure-seeker  like  Hawkins  and 
Clinton,  and  likes  the  life,  and  doesn't  mean  to 
change  it  until  it  begins  to  wear  thin. 

Needs  a  job?  No!  She's  got  a  job,  and 
works  hard  at  it.  She's  got  Aunt  Emily,  too, 
and  I  wash  my  hands  of  responsibility  for  her 
future. 

Late  this  afternoon,  as  I  was  passing  Madi- 
son Avenue  on  a  Twenty-ninth  Street  horse-car, 
I  looked  up  from  my  newspaper  and  casually 
descried  my  cousin  Josephine  half  a  block  away, 
walking  up-town  with  that  man  Lee.  No  doubt 
I  should  have  gone  right  on  about  my  business, 
which  was  taking  me  a  block  farther  on,  but, 
acting  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  I  got  off 
the  car  and  condescended  to  observe  them. 
After  all,  Josephine  is  my  cousin,  and  unques- 
tionably dear  to  me,  and  I  don't  know  why  I 
should  not  notice  her  in  the  street,  no  matter 
whom  she  is  walking  with.  She  seemed  in  very 
148 


Josephine 

cheerful  spirits;  so  did  Lee.  I  observed  that 
they  noticed  all  the  apartment  -  houses  they 
passed,  and  seemed  to  discuss  them,  and  looked 
down  the  side  streets  both  ways,  pausing  some- 
time to  do  so  more  thoroughly.  They  may 
have  been  discussing  the  progress  of  domestic 
architecture;  of  course  I  don't  know,  but  their 
talk  certainly  seemed  to  concern  human  habita- 
tions, and  it  certainly  looked  to  me  like  rather 
intimate  kind  of  talk.  Not  being  in  a  hurry,  I 
let  my  Fifth  Avenue  errand  go,  and  sauntered 
up  Madison.  At  Thirty-fourth  Street  they  bore 
off  towards  Park  Avenue,  and  then  self-respect 
constrained  me  to  turn  towards  Fifth  and  go 
to  the  club.  Nothing  that  I  noticed  —  that 
forced  itself,  I  should  say,  on  my  notice — had 
any  real  significance,  and  yet  somehow  I  fear 
the  worst.  They  seemed  so  deplorably  cheer- 
ful, and  turned  to  each  other  so  needlessly 
often,  that  it  reminded  me,  a  block  away,  of 
walks  that  I  had  taken  with  Gertrude — I  think 
it — yes,  it  certainly  was  Gertrude — during  the 
preliminary  period  of  our  attachment.  I  wish- 
ed heartily  that  I  had  had  Gertrude  along  to 
149 


The  Cotirtship  of  a  Carcftil  Han 

give  me  the  benefit  of  her  surmises,  but,  after 
all,  my  impulse  to  get  off  the  car  would  not  have 
been  strong  enough  to  have  moved  her,  too; 
and  besides  that,  I  had  the  feeling  that  the  appa- 
rition of  those  young  people  was  confidential — a 
circumstance  proper  enough  for  my  personal  ob- 
servation, but  hardly  suitable  to  be  pointed  out. 
Corbin  came  into  the  club  while  I  was  there, 
and  I  cornered  Jiim  with  the  help  of  a  waiter, 
and  artfully  led  him  on,  by  way  of  labor  unions, 
strikes,  the  building  industry,  and  the  new  Pub- 
lic Library,  to  architecture  and  architects,  and 
so  worked  him  carefully  down  to  Lee,  of  whom 
he  spoke  with  respect  as  a  man  of  talent  and 
prospects,  and  told  me  of  some  good  work  he 
had  done.  Gracious!  Is  it  possible  that  I  shall 
presently  be  snooping  around  in  such  fashion  as 
this  to  find  out  what  sort  of  landing  there  is  for 
my  own  girls  beyond  the  matrimonial  hedge? 
How  dreadfully  sordid  such  anxieties  make  one! 

I  hear   that  Lee's  plans  have  won  in  the 
United  Art  Societies'  competition  for  their  new 
exhibition  building.     That  is  a  first-class  suc- 
150 


Josephine 

cess,  Corbin  says,  though  he  tells  me  the  money 
for  the  building  is  not  all  subscribed  yet.  The 
idea  was  that  some  good  plans  would  help  in 
getting  subscriptions.  I  had  rather  he  had  a 
bona  fide  commission  to  build  an  office-building, 
or  a  hotel — that  is,  it  would  seem  like  better 
business,  though  Heaven  knows  whether  there  is 
any  basis  for  my  absurd  concern  about  Lee's 
business.  Still,  Corbin  says  this  success  will  go 
far  to  establish  his  professional  standing,  and 
that  he  will  be  sure  to  get  jobs  out  of  it,  and 
probably  some  good  partnership  offers.  As  an 
advertisement,  Corbin  says,  it  could  hardly  be 
bettered,  and  he  considers  Lee  abundantly  able 
to  deliver  all  the  goods  it  calls  for. 

Well,  the  fat  is  in  the  fire  now.     Last  night 
I  got  this  letter: 

"Dear  Cousin  Robert, — You  will  hear  with  relief, 
but  perhaps  not  entirely  with  surprise — you  are  such  a 
particularly  observing  cousin — that  I  am  engaged  to 
Richard  Lee.  I  stipulated  that  it  should  be  left  to 
me  to  break  it  to  you,  and  if  the  blue  stamp  carries  this 
letter  as  promptly  as  it  should,  you  and  Cousin  Ger- 
trude will  be  the  first  persons  outside  of  this  house  to 
151 


The  Courtship  of  a  Carcftil  Man 

be  informed.  We  consider  you  our  ally  in  this  en- 
tanglement, and  I  rely  very  much  upon  your  help  in 
getting  Aunt  Emily  Doddridge's  consent.  Father  and 
mother  are  resigned,  and,  I  hope,  satisfied.  As  for 
you  and  Cousin  Gertrude,  we  count  with  confidence 
on  your  felicitations.  Your  affectionate, 

"  Josephine." 

Of  course  there  is  nothing  for  it  now  but  to 
make  the  best  of  it.  It  was  none  of  my  doing, 
but  I  don't  know  that  it  is  any  the  worse  job 
because  of  that.  Josephine  seemed  cheerful, 
even  pleased,  over  it.  When  I  saw  that  she 
was  fully  committed  I  burned  my  bridges  and 
went  in  to  make  things  as  easy  as  I  could  for 
her.  Cassandra  was  resigned;  Alexis  philo- 
sophical. He  said  Lee  had  had  an  excellent 
partnership  offered  to  him,  and  would  probably 
take  it.  None  of  them  showed  elation,  but 
neither  did  any  of  them  disparage  Josephine's 
choice.  They  would  have  felt  the  same,  I 
think,  whomever  Josephine  had  taken,  except 
that  if  they  hadn't  liked  the  man  they  would 
have  felt  worse.  I  will  say  for  Lee,  darn  him! 
that  he  is  a  comfortable  being  to  have  about, 
and  an  acquisition  to  any  family.  It  wasn't 
152 


Josephine 

that  they  Uked  him  less,  but  that  they  liked  Jo 
more.  But,  after  all,  it  isn't  as  though  she 
were  going  to  live  in  China. 

They  asked  me  to  go  over  to  see  Aunt  Emily, 
which  I  did.  She  was  tearful  and  dejected. 
She  understood,  she  said,  that  this  Mr.  Lee  was 
a  friend  of  mine.  I  said  that  any  friend  of 
Josephine's  w^as  a  friend  of  mine,  but  that  my 
acquaintance  with  Mr.  Lee  was  not  yet  inti- 
mate, and  that  Gertrude  knew  him  better  than 
I.  But  she  went  on  and  searched  me  for  in- 
formation about  him,  moaning  all  the  time  at 
the  thought  of  losing  Josephine.  "Oh,  well, 
aunt,"  said  I,  "try  to  look  upon  it  more  as  an 
investment.  I  have  faith  to  believe  that  there 
will  still  be  something  coming  to  us  from  Jose- 
phine even  if  she  does  marry.  If  we  could  keep 
her  along  always  just  about  twenty-five  and  no 
older,  and  with  life  and  its  possibilities  always 
ahead  of  her,  that  would  be  one  thing.  But 
you  know  what  precarious  property  girls  are, 
and  how  indifferently  some  girls  keep,  and  with 
wdiat  inexorable  certainty  possibilities  that  are 
not  realized  slip  by."  I  went  on  to  speak  of 
153 


Tfic  Cotirtsliip   of   a   Careful  Man 

the  advantages  of  the  common  lot,  and  of  family 
life,  and  having  a  man  of  your  own  in  the  house. 
"But  what  shall  I  do  with  my  house  at  Bar 
Harbor?"  said  Aunt  Emily.  "Sell  it/'  said  I, 
"and  hire  Lee  to  build  you  another  nearer 
town.  He  can  do  it.  You  know  he  is  in  that 
business.  And  perhaps,  if  you  encourage  him, 
he'll  build  one  near  by  for  Josephine." 

Whether  that  is  a  practical  suggestion  I 
know  not,  but  it  sent  Aunt  Emily's  mind  off 
on  another  tack,  and  that  was  something.  For 
impecunious  young  persons  about  to  marry,  a 
doting  and  affluent  aunt  may  be  an  exceedingly 
helpful  property.  All  young  couples  who  at- 
tempt to  set  up  housekeeping  in  New  York  need 
one  or  two  established  homes  to  fall  back  upon 
in  times  of  stress,  and  especially  a  country  home 
not  too  far  from  town,  where  babies  can  be  sent 
in  the  spring. 

Clinton's    back.     We    played    cowboy    pool 
from  half-past  five  to  quarter  of  seven  to-day, 
and  it  was  like  old  times.     What  a  fool  a  man 
is  who  can't  mind  his  own  business! 
154 


Found:   a   Situation 


Found:   a  Situation 


LISS  CLARKSON  had  been 

a  successful  lawyer  in  New 
York.  He  had  worked  hard 
for  thirty  -  five  years,  had 
earned  great  fees  by  honor- 
able service,  and,  strange  to 
say,  had  shown  more  than  ordinary  gumption 
in  the  investment  of  his  surplus  funds.  Good 
lawyers  are  not  very  apt  to  be  good  men  of 
business  for  themselves,  but  it  so  happened 
that  Mr.  Clarkson  had  a  sort  of  business  in- 
stinct that  served  him  as  well  in  his  own  con- 
cerns as  in  his  labors  for  his  clients.  He  was 
not  unduly  interested  in  money-making,  but 
when  it  came  to  a  question  of  where  he  should 
put  the  money  he  had,  he  showed  a  very  pretty 
talent  for  putting  it  where  it  would  breed. 
157 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

Then  he  let  it  alone,  and  usually  it  did  breed. 
His  chief  entertainment  he  found  in  the  prac- 
tice of  law,  and  being  suited  by  a  scale  of  living 
that  he  had  adopted  when  his  income  was  still 
modest,  he  stuck  pretty  close  to  it  all  his  life. 
Evidently  he  was  a  fortunately  constituted  per- 
son, as  men  go,  and  yet  he  made  one  very  se- 
rious mistake,  for  being  well  adapted  to  live 
happily  and  usefully,  as  well  as  profitably,  on 
this  earth,  for  as  many  score  years  as  human 
perishability  ordinarily  permits,  he  let  his  work 
crowd  him  a  little  too  hard. 

To  keep  alive  and  in  the  best  working  order 
in  New  York  is  a  very  fine  art,  which  is  prac- 
tised to  admiration  by  many  expert  workers. 
It  is  a  matter  of  so  many  months  in  town,  so 
many  out  of  town  but  near  by,  so  many  weeks  of 
clear  rest  in  Europe  or  somewhere,  so  much  horse 
exercise,  so  much  golf,  so  many  Saturdays  away 
from  the  oflfice.  Age  is  a  bad  disease,  and  final- 
ly a  fatal  one,  and  the  sort  of  hard  head-work 
that  strains  the  nerves  is  another,  and  the  man 
who  works  his  wits  hard  in  a  great  city  has  to 
fortify  himself  watchfully  against  both.  Mr. 
158 


Fotind:  a  Situation 

Clarkson  was  duly  kind  and  indulgent  to  him- 
self, especially  when  his  wife  insisted,  and  he 
golfed  on  occasion,  and  had  been  seen  on  a 
horse,  and  he  had  rested  himself,  first  or  last, 
in  convenient  places  all  the  way  from  the  head 
waters  of  the  Nile  to  the  Sandwich  Islands. 
He  intended  to  be  prudent,  and  he  usually  did 
what  the  duty  of  self-preservation  seemed  to 
demand.  But  sometimes  crises  in  the  affairs 
of  his  clients  kept  him  up  to  his  eyes  in  labors 
and  responsibilities  long  after  his  rest-time  had 
come.  It  is  not  healthy  to  go  on  after  you  are 
tired,  and  the  older  you  grow  the  more  un- 
healthy it  is.  Mr.  Clarkson  did  it  once  too 
often,  and  died  at  fifty-four,  leaving  a  discon- 
solate widow,  a  boy  in  college,  two  grown  girls, 
and  about  a  million  and  a  half  of  dollars.  Half 
of  this  fortune  went  outright  to  his  wife;  the 
other  half  he  directed  should  presently  go  to 
his  children. 

The  boy  was  a  good  boy,  well  born  and  well 

beloved,  well  schooled,  and  trained  as  soundly 

as   intelligence    and   affection   could   compass. 

When  the  clasp  of  the  good  hand  that  had  held 

159 


The  Courtship  of  a  Carcfttl  Man 

his  relaxed,  he  kept  on  in  the  path  that  had 
been  marked  out  for  him.  He  went  on  through 
college,  graduated  creditably,  and  took  ship  for 
Europe  to  join  his  mother  and  sisters,  who  had 
started  earlier  in  the  season.  Julien  Hatfield, 
a  classmate,  shared  his  state-room.  Judge  and 
Mrs.  Finch  were  aboard.  He  knew  them,  as 
he  knew  several  others  of  his  shipmates,  as 
family  friends,  and  he  and  Hatfield  found  ac- 
quaintances of  their  own  besides.  To  be 
twenty-one  years  old,  and  just  out  of  a  great 
college,  and  to  have  your  face  turned  towards 
Europe  with  nothing  more  perplexing  in  hand 
for  immediate  consideration  than  how  best  to 
look  at  and  enjoy  the  great  world,  is  not  at  all 
a  bad  situation.  James  Clarkson  liked  it.  The 
only  thing  that  bothered  him  at  all  was  the 
choice  of  an  occupation. 

"Charles,"  said  Mrs.  Finch,  from  her  deck- 
chair  to  her  husband,  "what  is  that  young 
Clarkson  going  to  do?" 

"I  don't    know.     Be    a    joy    and    comfort 

to   his    mother,    I    hope.     He's    just    out    of 

college." 

160 


'"I  THINK  YOU  HAD  BETTER  TALK  TO  HOI 


Found:  a  Situation 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Well,  what  is  he  going  to  do 
next?" 

"He  hasn't  told  me.  Why,  his  father  left 
him  enough  to  live  on,  and  he  has  more  coming 
to  him  eventually  from  his  mother.  Do  you 
think  he  ought  to  find  a  job?" 

"What  do  you  think?" 

"Every  good  American  has  to  have  a  job. 
That's  one  of  our  national  defects.  But  there 
seems  to  be  no  urgent  haste  in  James  Clark- 
son's  case.  I'd  like  to  be  a  young  creature  just 
out  of  college  and  on  my  way  to  Europe  with 
money  in  my  pocket;  wouldn't  you?" 

"  I  dare  say,  and  yet  it  seems  to  me  rather  a 
critical  situation.     The  boy  has  no  father." 

"He's  got  a  mighty  good  mother." 

"I  dare  say  she'll  spoil  him.  We  all  love  to 
spoil  our  boys.  That's  too  good  a  boy  to  waste. 
I  think  you  had  better  talk  to  him." 

And  the  judge,  being  a  dutiful  husband,  sat 
down  next  to  James  Clarkson  in  the  smoking- 
room  that  evening. 

"James,"  said  he,  "are  you  staying  long 
abroad?" 

161 


The  Courtship  of  a  Carcfal  Man 

"Two  or  three  months,  judge,  anyway.  I 
suppose  it  will  depend  upon  mother's  plans. 
She  engaged  her  passage  home  in  September, 
but  she  may  change  her  mind.  The  girls  will 
probably  want  her  to  stay  all  winter." 

"I  suppose  Europe  is  a  fairly  good  place  for 
girls  for  a  while,  but  delays  are  dangerous,  and 
I  have  known  delays  in  Europe  to  have  pretty 
serious  consequences  to  girls  as  attractive  as 
your  sisters.  How  do  you  feel  about  it,  as  the 
man  of  the  family?" 

"  I  haven't  had  a  large  experience  in  keeping 
girls  out  of  mischief.  I'd  like  to  look  about  a 
bit  over  there  myself." 

"Have  you  any  plans  for  the  fall?  Are  you 
going  to  study  a  profession?" 

"  Father  expected  me  to  study  law,  but  going 
into  the  law  with  father  was  one  thing,  and 
going  into  it  on  my  own  account  is  another." 

"The  law  is  still  a  respectable  profession. 
Livings  are  still  made  at  it;  but  I  don't  know 
that  the  problem  of  making  a  living  presses 
very  hard  as  yet  on  you." 

"I  have  not  suffered  yet  for  lack  of  neces- 
162 


Found  :  a  Situation 

saries.  I'd  just  as  lief  study  law,  but  when  it 
comes  to  going  down-town  and  practising  it — 
What  do  you  think,  judge?    Would  it  pay?" 

"Men  make  it  pay,  James,  who  have  to.  But 
it  isn't  the  only  calling.  There's  medicine.  I 
invited  my  son  to  study  law,  but  he  liked  doc- 
toring better.     Have  you  any  taste  that  way?" 

"I  have  not  discovered  yet  that  I  have  a 
strong  bent  towards  anything." 

"Did  you  do  any  work  in  college?" 

"I  didn't  hurt  myself,  but  I  worked  decently. 
It  pleased  father  to  have  me  do  it  respectably, 
and  I  got  the  habit  of  it." 

"What  do  you  think  you  learned?" 

"A  little  about  things  in  general.  I  scattered 
a  good  deal.  Father's  idea  was  to  have  me  get 
a  general  education  and  specialize  later." 

"Let's  employ  the  method  of  elimination  in 
your  problem.  You  haven't  got  to  do  any- 
thing in  a  hurry.  You  won't  be  a  doctor.  I 
judge  that  you  won't  be  any  kind  of  engineer 
or  man  of  science,  nor  go  into  the  army  or  navy, 
nor  go  on  the  stage.  That  leaves  you  law, 
politics,  diplomacy,  finance,  art,  literature, 
163 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

newspapers,  business,  and  the  life  of  leisure. 
How  about  the  life  of  leisure?  Would  that 
suit  you?" 

"I  guess  so,  for  a  while;  but  don't  you  think 
it's  pretty  dull  in  the  long  run?" 

"They  say  it's  very  much  helped  out  by 
sport." 

"Do  you  think  there  is  much  in  that,  judge?" 
"/  think  that  if  a  man  is  going  to  make  a 
business  of  anything,  it  had  better  be  work, 
for  if  he  makes  a  business  of  play,  what  is  he 
going  to  turn  to  for  recreation?  Besides,  lei- 
sure and  sport  are  pretty  dear.  Could  you  af- 
ford it?" 

"I  have  got  plenty  enough  to  live  on  now." 
"But  you  might  marry  and  have  children. 
It  often  happens  so.  I  dare  say  you  have 
enough  to  support  a  family,  but  I  doubt  if  you 
have  enough  to  support  a  family  and  an  idle 
man,  too.  To  maintain  an  idle  man  to  his 
satisfaction  costs  a  good  deal.  And  some  of 
your  money  may  get  away  from  you.  I  have 
known  that  to  happen,  too.  Be  on  the  safe 
side,  and  try  to  qualify  yourself  to  make  a 
164 


Found:  a  Situation 

living.  At  any  rate,  work  hard  at  something, 
and  get  interested  enough  in  it  to  find  a  satis- 
factory occupation  in  your  work.  A  working- 
man  can  feel  rich  on  an  income  on  which  a  man 
of  leisure  feels  poor." 

"That  sounds  like  good  advice,  judge,  but  I 
don't  yet  see  my  w^ay  clear  enough  to  know 
what  I  want  to  do." 

"That  isn't  strange,  for  most  men  are  pushed 
into  their  life's  work  by  circumstances  and 
necessity,  and  you  haven't  the  pinch  of  need 
to  help  you." 

"Father's  plan  was  that  I  should  study 
law." 

"Well,  study  law,  whether  you  practise  it  or 
not.  It  won't  hurt  you  to  learn  some  law,  even 
though  eventually  you  come  to  be  a  minister, 
or  a  banker,  or  a  railroad  man,  or  enlist  and  go 
to  a  war.  Law's  a  good  subject;  only,  what- 
ever you  take  hold  of,  take  hold  hard." 

"I'm  going  to  look  about  a  bit  rirst." 

"You  can't  do  better,  but  don't  do  it  too 
long." 

The  judge  finished  his  cigar  and  went  out. 
165 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

Julien  Hatfield  came  up  and  took  the  seat  he 
had  left. 

"You  look  thoughtful,  Jimmy.  Don't  think; 
it's  bad  for  you,  particularly  in  vacation- time. 
Has  the  judge  been  scolding  you?" 

"The  judge  talks  of  putting  me  to  work." 

"All  in  good  time.     What  at?" 

"To  study  law,  for  a  starter." 

"Law's  a  pretty  long  row.  You  could  go 
back  to  the  Law  School,  though;  that  would  be 
fair  sport,  though  they  work  like  nailers  there." 

"I  don't  think  I  could.  Mother  would  want 
me  to  stay  in  New  York.  I'd  have  to  go  to  the 
Columbia  School." 

"I  suppose  they'd  let  you  work  hard  there 
if  you  insisted.  And  after  three  years  of  it, 
when  you've  learned  the  rudiments,  where  are 
you?" 

"Still  in  New  York." 

"Yes,  and  you  go  into  an  office  down-town 
and  get  a  job  as  clerk,  and  in  the  course  of  ten 
years  or  so  you  get  to  be  managing  clerk  maybe, 
and  years  after  that  you  get  so  you  can  make  a 
living.  And  whenever  you  want  to  go  any- 
106 


Found:  a  Situation 

where  you  can't  leave  the  office,  and  if  you 
don't  work  yourself  to  death,  you  don't  get 
anywhere,  and  if  you  work  yourself  to  death,  you 
don't  have  any  fun.  Better  go  into  a  bank  or 
be  a  broker." 

"A  bank,  yes,  and  stunt  your  mind  figuring 
interest.  As  for  being  a  broker,  there's  more  in 
roulette,  and  it's  just  as  respectable." 

"No,  it  isn't.  There's  no  money  in  roulette 
unless  you  run  the  dive,  and  that  isn't  respect- 
able. You  may  get  pulled,  for  roulette  is  il- 
legal. But  brokers  who  run  a  fair  game  can't 
be  pulled.  Every  few  days  maybe  they  buy 
or  sell  something  for  a  real  investor,  and  that 
leavens  all  the  gambles." 

"I'm  not  going  to  be  a  broker,  anyhow." 

"  I  dare  say  you'll  do  worse.  It's  the  easiest 
trade  to  learn  there  is,  and  you  have  money 
enough  to  buy  a  seat." 

"That's  reason  enough  for  not  doing  it. 
Don't  you  know  the  story  of  the  Arkansas  man 
and  the  saw-mill?" 

"Tell  it." 

"  He  wrote  to  inquire  the  price  of  a  saw-mill 
167 


The  Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

that  would  do  certain  specified  stunts,  and  cut 
so  many  boards  a  day.  The  manufacturers 
wrote  him  that  it  would  cost  sixteen  hundred 
dollars.  He  wrote  back,  '  If  a  man  had  sixteen 
hundred  dollars,  what  in  thunder  would  he 
want  of  a  saw-mill?'" 

"  Pshaw !  Jimmy,  you  are  not  of  an  aspiring 
nature." 

"Yes,  I  am,  but  stock-broking  wouldn't  help 
me  realize  my  aspirations.  I  don't  aspire  to 
be  a  banker,  nor  to  own  railroads,  and  for  the 
moment  I  am  not  hard  put  to  it  to  make  a 
living." 

"What  is  your  lay,  anyhow?" 

"  Just  to  take  notice  for  a  while,  and  find  out 
what's  going  on,  and  try  to  get  ready  to  take 
hold  somewhere.  By-the-way,  Julien,  we  must 
get  to  know  those  girls  at  the  captain's  ta- 
ble." 

"The  Markham  girls?  Very  pleasing  ladies." 
That's  their  aunt  they're  with.  But  they're 
getting  along  all  right.     They  don't  need  us." 

"  Maybe  not,  but  I  am  out  to  take  notice,  and 
I  notice  those  girls." 

168 


Found:    a  Situation 

"  Sail  in ;  your  friends  the  Finches  know  them. 
They'll  put  you  on." 

Now  the  elder  Miss  Markham  was  a  grown- 
up person,  no  less  than  twenty-two  years  old, 
and  with  vested  interests  in  life  and  society 
which  occupied  a  good  part  of  her  energies,  and 
left  her  with  only  a  limited  share  of  attention 
to  bestow  on  a  youth  just  out  of  college.  But 
Edith  Markham  was  four  years  younger,  and 
in  college  herself. 

"We  had  to  wait  for  her,"  Miss  Julia  Mark- 
ham explained  to  James,  '^  Burnmore  takes 
no  note  of  the  wishes  of  relatives,  and  doesn't 
let  out  until  it  gets  ready." 

^' Never  mind.  You'll  have  a  good  month  of 
London  left  if  you  want  it.  My  mother  and 
sisters  are  to  meet  me  there." 

"  We  don't  want  a  month,  but  I  think  we'll 
take  a  fortnight.     AVe're  going  to  Scotland." 

^'  Now  I  hope  my  mother  means  to  take  me 
to  Scotland.  She  is  keeping  my  plans  hid  un- 
til I  join  her,  under  pretence  of  consulting  me." 

^'  I  remember  your  sisters  at  Miss  Perkin's 
school.  You  must  remember  them,  Edith 
169 


The   Cotirtship  of  a  Careftil  Man 

They  were  nearer  your  age;  a  little  older  than 
you  and  younger  than  I." 

"I  beg  to  offer  you  my  sympathy  in  having 
the  responsibility  of  a  younger  sister.  I  have 
two,  as  you  know,  and  only  mother  to  help  me 
raise  them." 

"I  have  plenty  of  help  with  Edith — father 
and  mother,  and  at  present  Aunt  Sarah;  but 
still  it  is  a  charge." 

"You  are  sending  her  to  college,  which  is 
more  than  I  am  doing  for  my  sisters.  What 
drove  you  to  that?  Was  her  intelligence  so  de- 
fective as  to  need  further  cultivation,  or  so 
rare  that  nothing  less  than  all  the  knowledge 
going  could  satisfy  it?" 

"You'll  have  to  ask  her.  It  wasn't  I  that 
sent  her  to  college.  She  would  go,  and,  being 
her  father's  pet,  she  did  go." 

"  Defective  intelligence,"  said  Edith.  "  Scarce, 
not  rare.  That  was  the  trouble,  Mr.  Clarkson. 
It  was  a  case  of  a  desperate  appeal  to  art  to 
help  out  nature." 

"You  are  a  sophomore  now,  aren't  you?  I 
never  met  a  girl  sophomore  before.  I  beg  your 
170 


Found:   a  Situation 

pardon,  but  you  don't  seem  to  me  nearly  so 
rudimentary  as  the  men  sophomores  are.  Do 
you  know  very  much  yet?  Have  you  a  class 
yell,  and  can  you  smoke  cigarettes?" 

"I  know  too  much  to  tell.  Don't  trifle  with 
me  like  that.  I  am  a  serious  person.  We  all 
take  education  seriously  at  Burnmore.  We 
are  not  frivolous  like  you  men." 

"Are  you  on  the  basket-ball  team?" 
"Not  yet.     Were  you  on  the  nine?" 
"I  am  surprised  that  you  should  have  to 
ask.     Don't  they  let  you  read  the  papers  at 
Burnmore?    Try  to  remember  seeing  my  pict- 
ure in  the  Sunday  Screech  ^ 

"We  don't  take  the  Sunday  Screech  at  Burn- 
more,  and  I  don't  remember  your  picture.  We 
only  take  grave  papers,  and  no  Sunday  papers 
at  all.  Our  papers  only  print  pictures  of  poli- 
ticians and  labor  leaders  and  people  of  con- 
sequence." 

"Then  I'm  afraid  you  haven't  seen  mine. 

And,  indeed,  I  dare  say  the  Sunday  papers  will 

print  your  picture  many  times  before  they  print 

mine  again,  for  I  have  passed  out  of  public  life 

la  171 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

into  eclipse,  and  you — even  if  you  escape  the 
basket-ball  team  and  that  grade  of  illustration 
— are  pretty  sure  to  ornament  the  'society 
pages'  a  little  later.  You  see,  a  man  jumps 
from  college  into  outer  darkness,  but  a  girl 
emerges  into  the  strong  light  that  beats  upon  a 
bud." 

"Do  you  hear  that  bugle?    That's  dinner." 

"Do  college  girls  take  thought  of  anything 
so  intellectual  as  food?" 

"They  have  to.  Soup,  meat,  and  vegetables 
are  required  courses." 

"And  pie  and  candy  electives,  I  suppose.  I 
congratulate  you  both  on  your  interest  in  all 
of  them  on  shipboard." 

Acquaintance  ripens  fast  aboard  an  Atlantic 
liner.  James  found  no  better  occupation  than 
to  chatter,  when  occasion  offered,  with  Edith 
Markham,  and  occasion  offered  several  times 
a  day  for  the  three  days  of  the  voyage  that  were 
left.  Edith  was  nothing  loath  to  chat  with 
James. 

"Don't  you  like  him?"  she  asked  her  sister. 
172 


Found :   a  Situation 

"He  seems  a  pleasant  youth,  and  has  more 
ideas  than  one  would  naturally  expect  in  a  man 
just  out  of  college.  Has  he  told  you  what  he 
proposes  to  make  of  himself?" 

He  had  not,  Edith  said.  As  to  that,  she 
had  neither  inquired  nor  wondered;  but  the 
question  being  suggested  to  her,  she  turned  it 
over  in  her  mind.  It  is  one  of  the  two  ques- 
tions which  consideration  of  a  new  graduate 
inevitably  invites.  What  is  he?  is  the  first 
one,  and  when  some  conclusion  has  been 
reached  about  that  the  other  is  bound  to 
follow. 

James  gave  himself  no  concern  about  Edith's 
future  beyond  its  immediate  developments,  but 
with  those  he  did  concern  himself.  He  dis- 
cussed London  hotels  w^ith  Miss  Sarah  Mark- 
ham,  and  recommended  the  one  where  his 
mother  was  staying.  The  plans  of  people  bent 
on  pleasure  are  easily  adjusted  to  include  any- 
thing that  promises  to  be  pleasant.  The  Mark- 
ham  ladies  and  the  Clarkson  ladies  found  each 
other  profitable  company  in  London,  made 
some  explorations  in  common,  dined  together 
173 


The   Courtship  of  a  Careful  Man 

sometimes,  shared  knowledge  and  swapped  sug- 
gestions, and  found  themselves  suited  to  a  good 
deal  of  harmonious  co-operation.  A  family 
party  is  usually  improved  by  the  infusion  of 
suitable  intruders,  and  two  family  parties  that 
happen  to  be  congenial  may  be  mingled,  to  the 
advantage  of  both.  The  summer  aims  of  the 
Clarksons  and  the  Markhams  were  substantially 
alike;  common  acquaintances  turned  up  daily, 
^nd,  without  merging,  they  drifted  in  relations 
of  confidence. 

So  it  came  about  without  cost  of  much  con- 
trivance on  James's  part  that  he  found  himself 
on  an  August  evening  sitting  in  the  twilight 
with  Edith  Markham  in  the  window  of  a  Prin- 
cess Street  hotel  in  Edinburgh.  They  were 
talking  with  the  ease  of  familiar  friends. 

"How  is  Burnmore  going  to  seem  to  you,"  he 
asked  her,  "after  this  pleasant,  idle  summer? 
Do  you  think  you  will  ever  get  down  to  work 
again?" 

"  Oh  yes,  and  I  shall  like  it.     The  summer  is 
doing  me  good.     Father  and  mother  start  from 
London,  you  know,  to-night,  and  when  they 
174 


Found:    a  Situation 

get  here  I  shall  like  it  better  still.  But  I  shall 
be  glad  to  go  home  with  them." 

"Burnmore  can't  be  half  bad,  if  you  like  it 
so  well.  What  put  it  into  your  head  to  go 
there?" 

"My  teachers,  partly,  and  circumstances. 
I  planned  years  ago  to  go  there.  Didn't  you 
always  mean  to  go  to  college?" 

"Yes;  but  college  isn't  so  much  a  matter  of 
course  for  girls  yet." 

"Do  you  think  I  could  have  done  better?" 

"Oh  no,  but  you  know  plenty  already,  and 
you  have  three  more  years  of  studies  ahead  of 
you.  Think  how  superior  you'll  be  when  you 
are  completely  educated.  What  are  you  going 
to  do  then?" 

"I  haven't  got  to  that  yet.  You  have  been 
through  college  and  are  completely  educated; 
what  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"  I  knew  you'd  come  to  that  sometime.  Every- 
body does.  I  have  even  come  to  it  myself.  I 
know  I've  got  to  find  a  job.  It's  different  with 
a  girl — with  you  at  least.  Even  when  you  get 
out  of  college  nobody  will  insist  that  you  shall 
175 


The  Courtship   of    a  Careful  Man 

find  a  job.  You'll  just  go  on  and  pour  tea,  and 
slum,  and  make  calls,  and  shop,  and  dance,  and 
go  to  dinners,  and  adorn  house-parties  like  the 
other  girls." 

"Isn't  it  a  dreadful  prospect?  What  would 
you  do  about  it?" 

"Don't  ask  me.  I  don't  think  it  will  be  so 
bad.  I  think  I  would  be  a  loafer  if  it  were  not 
for  my  congenital  compunctions.  You  see,  I  am 
a  working-man's  son,  and  suffer  from  the  natural 
moral  inconveniences  of  that  derivation." 

"Gracious!  you  wouldn't  want  to  be  idle, 
would  you?  Why,  you'd  never  come  to  any- 
thing! You  wouldn't  even  hold  your  own. 
You'd  degenerate." 

"Yes;  that's  the  awkward  part  of  it.  Not 
but  what  degeneration  might  be  a  pleasant 
enough  process  for  a  good  many  years  to  come!" 

"Oh  no!  It  would  be — oh,  it  would  be  just 
disgusting.  It  would  be  losing  one's  own  soul, 
and  not  even  getting  the  whole  world." 

"Awful!  But  I  wouldn't  have  to  go  head- 
long to  the  demnition  bowwows.  I  could  buy 
a  farm,  and  raise  pigs  and  horses,  and  travel  a 
176 


Found :   a  Situation 

little,  and  go  hunting,  and  fish,  and  keep  in 
physical  health,  anyway.  Would  you  have  me 
go  into  business  and  lose  my  inheritance  trying 
to  do  something  without  learning  how?" 

"Why  not  learn  how  to  do  something?" 

"I  must,  of  course,  but  what?  How  are  you 
going  to  stand  off  degeneration  when  you  get 
through  with  Burnmore?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  somehow.  I'm  not  going 
to  dawdle." 

"Well,  I  tell  you.  I'm  going  to  look  around, 
and  if  I  find  anything  that  needs  doing  that's 
about  your  size,  I'll  let  you  know.  And  if  you 
notice  any  likely  job  that's  about  my  size, 
please  remember  me.  It  would  be  a  high  privi- 
lege to  be  of  use  to  a  lady  in  such  straits  as  you 
are  facing;  and  as  for  myself,  you  see,  my 
troubles  are  already  on  me,  and  it  would  be  a 
work  of  mercy  to  throw  me  a  line." 

"  And  meanwhile  are  you  going  to  drift  about 
and  wait  to  be  rescued?" 

"Alas!  I  am  not.  I  am  going  to  take  my 
mother  and  the  girls  to  Paris,  where  they  pro- 
pose, as  you  know,  to  spend  the  fall  acquiring 
177 


The  Courtship   of   a  Careful  Man 

French  and  fineries,  and  in  just  about  a  month 
I  shall  take  ship  for  New  York  with  Julien  Hat- 
field and  immerse  myself  into  the  study  of  the 
law.  Much  good  may  I  do  law  and  law  do  me ! 
It  is  the  thing  nearest  to  hand.  I  suppose  you'll 
be  in  town  for  the  holidays?" 

"Oh  yes.'' 

"And  again  in  the  spring,  and  I  trust  I  may 
be  able  from  time  to  time  to  command  the  ad- 
vantage of  your  venerable  and  learned  counsel." 

"It  is  not  polite  of  you  to  make  fun  of 
me!" 

"And  I  shall  be  on  the  lookout  for  a  job  for 
you.  Do  they  teach  short-hand  at  Burnmore? 
That  sometimes  leads  to  excellent  employ- 
ments." 

"  It  does,  really.  There  are  girl  stenographers 
in  father's  office,  and,  if  worse  should  come  to 
worst,  I  could  learn  short-hand  and  hire  out  to 
him.  But  I  didn't  know  your  plans  were  all 
made!" 

"No?  They  weren't.  They  were  under  con- 
sideration until  to-night,  and  we  have  just  set- 
tled them." 

178 


Found:   a  Situation 

Three  years  pass  quickly  when  there  is  noth- 
ing to  hinder.     Once  James  Clarkson  had  buc- 
kled to  the  study  of  law,  they  sped  fast  enough 
for  him.     He  took  hold  hard,  as  is  proper  for  a 
law  student,  and  fairly  bent  himself  to  lay  the 
foundations  of  professional  knowledge.    And  be- 
sides learning  law,  he  began  the  serious  study 
of  his  own  town  and  the  people  in  it.     It  was 
only  serious  in  the  sense  that  he  paid  real  atten- 
tion to  it,  keeping  his  eyes  and  his  mind  open, 
cultivating  old  acquaintances  and  picking   up 
many  new  ones;  observing,  reflecting,  getting 
his  bearings  little  by  little  in  the  great  world, 
and  enjoying  life  very  much  in   the  process. 
There  is  no  royal  road  to  law  any  more  than  to 
any  other  branch  of  learning.     Shirk  the  work, 
and  you  miss  the  results;  but  along  any  road 
one  may  live  by  the  way,  and  James  was  able 
to   do   that   to   excellent   advantage.     Coming 
from  a  great  university,  he  had  a  ready-made 
set  of  familiar  friends.     His  new  studies  made 
him  other  associations  and  acquaintances,  and 
the  social  distractions  which  abound  for  likely 
young  persons  in  a  great  city  were  always  ready 
179 


The  Courtship    of   a  Careful  Man 

to  nibble  at  his  time  and  abbreviate  his  hours  of 
sleep.  But  one  of  the  advantages  of  having  a 
steady  and  imperious  job  is  that  it  serves  as  a 
protection  against  importunate  distractions, 
social  or  otherwise;  and  any  one  who  kept  faith- 
ful tab  on  James  might  have  noticed  that  when 
he  was  seen  at  a  dance,  it  always  happened  to 
be  vacation-time  in  the  colleges,  and  particularly 
at  Burnmore. 

It  had  come  to  be  the  Easter  vacation  in 
Edith  Markham's  last  year  in  college.  Central 
Park  is  not  exuberantly  springlike  in  March, 
but  even  then  it  begins  to  show  vernal  anticipa- 
tions; and,  as  at  all  other  times,  it  is  a  place  to 
which  young  people  not  too  experienced,  who  are 
disposed  to  walk  out  together,  may  profitably 
turn.  Our  young  people  were  turning  it  to  ac- 
count, and  were  skirting  the  edge  of  the  reservoir. 

"You  know,"  said  James,  "that  I  promised 
to  look  out  for  a  job  for  you  when  you  got  out 
of  college." 

"  And  I  for  you,  but  /  have  had  no  chance  to 
look." 

180 


Found :   a  Situation 

"No,  not  yet;  but  now  that  you  are  coming 
back  into  the  world,  I  shall  expect  substantial 
help  from  you." 

"What  have  you  done  for  me?  You  have 
been  here  all  this  time,  and  looked  about,  I 
suppose." 

"Yes;  looked  about  some,  but  there  was  no 
use  of  my  finding  you  anything  until  you  were 
ready  to  take  it." 

"That  sounds  a  little  like  an  excuse,  but  it 
won't  work  much  longer.  In  June  I  become  a 
finished  product,  and  June  is  only  three  months 
off." 

"And  in  June  or  thereabouts  I  shall  become 
an  attorney  and  counsellor  at  law,  and  shall  ex- 
pect you  to  discover  a  suitable  opening  for  my 
talents  and  learning." 

"  You  will !  But  you  told  me  you  were  going 
in  a  law-office  down-town." 

'  I  am,  but  that  does  not  let  you  out.  A  law- 
office  is  only  a  point  to  stand  on.  What  am  I 
to  go  there  for?  What  am  I  to  try  to  do,  and 
how,  and  for  whom  am  I  to  do  it?" 

"Isn't  there  work  to  be  done  in  law-offices? 
181 


The  Courtship  of   a  Careful  Man 

Sha'n't  you  do  work  and  earn  money  there  like 
other  people?  Won't  you  go  on  learning  to 
apply  the  knowledge  you  have  got?  It's  plain 
sailing  for  you,  as  I  see  it;  but  think  of  me,  full 
of  acquired  wisdom,  and  nothing  definite  to  do 
with  it  unless  I  teach  school." 

"Were  you  thinking  of  doing  that?'' 
"Really,  I  wish  I  might,  but  they  wouldn't 
let  me  teach  school  until  I  had  had  a  chance  to 
see  society  and  the  polite  world;  and  I  suppose 
by  the  time  I  have  been  two  years  in  society, 
and  devoted  myself  to  the  entertainment  of 
young  gentlemen  like  you,  I  shall  have  forgotten 
so  much,  and  fallen  into  such  lazy  habits,  that 
no  school  will  have  me.  I  think  my  case  is  far 
more  desperate  than  yours.  Indeed,  I  don't 
think  yours  is  desperate  at  all.  You  have  only 
to  go  right  on,  and  follow  your  own  leanings, 
and  I  dare  say  you  will  wind  up  by  being  chief- 
justice." 

"Pshaw!    You  don't  recognize  my  predica- 
ment.    I  haven't  incentive  enough.     It  will  be 
a  long  time  before  I  make  money  enough  to 
pay  for  the  expense  and  inconvenience  of  mak- 
182 


Found:   a  Situation 

ing  it.  It  is  very  expensive  to  work  in  New 
York.  Food  is  dear;  recreation  is  dear;  rents 
are  high.  It  will  cost  a  great  deal  more  than 
it  will  come  to  at  first  to  be  a  law-clerk.  And 
what  for?    Who's  going  to  be  any  better  off?" 

"You!  You!  You!  Why,  what  a  man!  You 
have  got  to  work,  with  wages  or  without.  There 
is  no  other  way  of  amounting  to  anything." 

"And  I  have  got  to  amount  to  something, 
have  I?  So  be  it.  Now  I  have  an  idea.  You 
see,  you  are  highly  competent,  and  afraid  your 
energies  will  run  to  waste.  You  need  a  situa- 
tion. I  am  obviously  in  need  of  being  taken 
in  hand  and  driven  up  the  hill  Difficulty.  I 
can't  insist  that  I  am  the  situation  that  you 
need,  but  I  am  unquestionably  a  situation  that 
needs  you.     Will  you  please  take  it?" 

"Take  youf' 

"No  less:  for  better  or  worse,  beginning,  if 
you  would  be  so  good,  not  very  long  after  Com- 
mencement." 

"I  really  think  you  will  do  something  as  a 
lawyer,  you  are  so  unexpected.  But  I  think 
you  have  an  exaggerated  impression  of  the  ur- 

183 


The  Courtship  of   a  Careful  Man 

gency  of  my  needs.  Is  this  all  a  brand-new 
idea?" 

"Dear  lady,  don't  trifle  with  a  true  heart. 
You  know  that  the  idea  is  pretty  nearly  three 
years  old,  and  has  worked  day  and  night  and 
Sundays  all  that  time.  I  may  not  be  much  of 
a  situation,  but  the  situation,  such  as  it  is,  has 
a  lot  of  your  handiwork  in  it." 

"  Do  you  know  that  that  is  my  hand  you  are 
holding?" 

"Oh  yes.  It's  ever  so  comfortable  to  hold. 
You  wouldn't  take  it  from  me,  would  you? 
You  have  known — you  must  have  known — 
this  long  time  that  I  loved  you.  I  don't  be- 
lieve you'd  be  here  now  if  you  were  not  going 
to  let  me  keep  on." 

"No?  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  not.  I  must 
have  time  to  think.  Anyhow  it  would  be  a 
way  to  escape  'society.'" 

They  were  married  in  October. 
"Charles,"  said  Mrs.  Finch,  after  the  wed- 
ding, "what  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"Excellent  plan.    Charming  young  people, 

184 


Found:   a  Situation 

and  I  would  say  very  likely  to  hit  it  off  happily. 
She  must  be  almost  James's  first  love.  What 
kind  of  a  world  would  it  be,  do  you  suppose, 
if  all  parents  were  provident  enough  to  qualify 
their  sons  to  marry  by  the  first  intention  (as 
surgeons  say)?" 

"Oh,  it  would  be  lovely." 

"It  would  certainly  be  different.  Well, 
there's  the  making  of  a  very  fine  woman  in 
Edith.  It  speaks  well  for  Clarkson  that  he 
knew  a  good  thing  when  he  saw  it.  They  can 
start  in  now  and  live  a  simple,  God-fearing,  two 
maids-and-a-furnace-man  life  in  town,  and  by 
the  time  Clarkson  needs  more  income,  I  dare 
say  he  will  have  learned  how  to  get  it.  You 
needn't  be  afraid  he  won't  work  now.  I  think 
he  has  got  it  in  him;  but,  anyway,  the  incon- 
venience of  maintaining  a  family  on  a  fixed  in- 
come of  any  reasonable  size  is  so  much  greater 
than  the  inconvenience  of  working,  that  I  have 
little  fear  but  that,  barring  accidents,  he  will 
turn  out  a  useful  man." 

THE   END 


T««^°"STAJ«FED  BELOW 

„,T*T   fliE  OF  25  CENTS 

AN   INITIAL    «^^"*'    "  „-ETO  RETURN 
=  p  ASSESSED  FOB  ''''"-""^Je  PENAUTY 

DAY     AND    TO     $100  

OVERDUE. 


mi 


27IM6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CAIvIFORNIA  I^IBRARY 


